The Forsaken One
by cindy123
Summary: d'Artagnan's first mission with the Inseparables does not go well. As he endures the pain of interrogation he wonders, why have his friends forsaken him? Or were they ever really his friends at all? hurt!d'Artagnan, panicked and torn Inseparables.
1. Chapter 1- Prologue

**First of all, I posted this first chapter and neglected to put in my intro. Then, I had it as the Epilogue instead of the Prologue. Yeah, it was definitely a Monday today.**

 **So, anyway...I got such a warm welcome into this fandom with my first story, I just had to write another one! Plus, I love this show so much! There really isn't muh more to say, other than, I guess technically, Vadim could be considered d'Artagnan's first mission, but I didn't see that as a mission mission, so...it's my story and if I want to say this is his first mission, I can! LOL! I think that's all for right now, other than the disclaimer:**

 **I do not own any of the characters that you recognize from the show. There, that's done.**

Chapter 1

Prologue

He thought that he shouldn't be surprised, not really. He hadn't been in Paris for very long, just a few months, and though he had been made a recruit at the musketeer garrison, he wasn't yet a musketeer. He'd been training with the musketeers, spending most of his time with Athos, Porthos and Aramis, but after training day was done, he was mostly left to his own devices, except for the times when he was invited out with the three. The other days, which numbered three times as many of those where he was invited, he would trudge to his lodgings, sit alone at the table to eat whatever meal Constance put before him and then he would lock himself in his room to wallow in his loneliness. He felt a closeness to the three they called the Inseparables, but though they were friendly and took an interest in his training, they didn't seem to hold him in as high regard as he held them. He had a feeling that it may be his self-perceived failure with Vadim that made them keep their distance, but it may also be that they were perfectly happy with just the three of them and did not need, nor desire a fourth member of their close knit group. So no, he shouldn't be surprised that he had been abandoned and left to the mercies of the men who held him now, d'Artagnan thought, but despite his assumptions about his importance to the Inseparables, he WAS surprised, dammit! Surprised and hurt and so damned miserable that he had to fight with all he had to contain the sobs that fought to break free from him.

His body ached mercilessly from the regular beatings he'd been receiving and he was sure there were broken ribs that could at any time during the next beating puncture a lung. He was positive that his shoulder had come out of its socket, and a bit scared since the overwhelming pain had turned to a frightening feeling of numbness running from his shoulder to his fingertips. His stomach was hollow from days with no food, his mouth dry and lips cracked from no water, but it was his heart that hurt with the most ferocity. He had thought that the musketeers left no man behind, but here he was, alone with his torturers while his comrades were who knows where. True, he wasn't one of the Inseparables, but he was a musketeer recruit and he thought that should be enough to warrant a rescue. He'd heard the mantra "All for one, and one for all" and assumed it meant recruits as well as commissioned musketeers. Well, he was holding up his end. Forget that he didn't know the whereabouts of the damned letter…he was not made privy to any information…the fact that he had not said a single word in response to any of his captors questions was enough, he believed, and even if he did know where the letter was, his captors would be sorely disappointed because he'd rather die than to dishonor his friends. So yes, he had the one for all part down and he thought it was high time the all for one part came into play. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on after all. No food, no water, no real sleep, because he didn't count unconsciousness as sleep…and regular beatings that left him reeling and in agony, were draining his body, and his spirit, so much so that he had caught himself at times wishing that he would not wake up once his broken body succumbed to unconsciousness once again.

It was his stubbornness, and a small shred of hope for rescue that lingered even when his mind had him convinced he meant nothing to the musketeers, that kept him hanging on. He would prove to them, all of them, that he was worthy and that he deserved a place in the regiment. It was all he had left, this desire to be a musketeer, and he would not allow these men, these criminals, to take that away from him. He sucked in a shaky, painful breath and lifted his head when he heard the sounds of his tormenters approaching. He would meet their eyes and he would smile. He would welcome their questions and their fists, and whatever else they chose to use on him, because in the end, it would make him stronger. It would make the others see him as an equal, not a burden, someone they could trust and count on when needed, and maybe, just maybe, one day, if he survived his ordeal, they would call him brother.

TBC

 **So, that's it for now. Thanks to those who have already reviewed my pre-edited chapter. I can't promise quick updates, but I do promise I will try as hard as I can to post as quickly as my busy life allows. Take care and thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Beginning

**Well, that took awhile! I apologize for the wait...I've been working on this chapter and have, in fact, rewritten it twice. Work has been nuts with my co-worker out for surgery so I've not had as much time as I had hoped to work on it. It is a long chapter so hopefully that makes up for it!**

 **A huge thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed and commented on the first chapter. Not too shabby for only a thousand words :) Our poor Gascon is feeling a bit abandoned...silly silly boy! We all know how much the Inseparables adore him, but the poor pup doesn't quite see it yet. This chapter will hopefully begin to shed some light on why he is feeling this way. So, without any further babbling on my part, on with the story!**

 **Cindy :)**

Chapter 2 – The Beginning

It was a brisk morning in early Spring that found the three Inseparables gathered around their usual table in the garrison, fresh bread and assorted cheeses laid out before them. They smiled amicably when Serge brought out a plate of cured ham and placed it with the other food. Their stomachs grumbled collectively from the aroma that filled their nostrils, but they were hesitant to start without their newest member there. As if on cue, the young Gascon strolled slowly in through the garrison gates, his eyes looking down as if in deep thought. A deep, exuberant voice brought his attention up and he smiled at the three men who were watching him from the table they had claimed as their own.

"d'Artagnan!" Porthos called, "git yerself over 'ere so we can dig in to this feast!"

d'Artagnan quickened his step and sat down next to Aramis, who sat opposite Athos. Porthos reached across the table and patted the young man's arm. "'bout time you got yer butt 'ere…I'm starvin'!"

A sheepish smile greeted Porthos' words, but d'Artagnan made no move to take any of the food that the three musketeers were now piling in front of themselves. Porthos noted his reluctance and tilted his head. "Dig in, whelp! We got a long day of trainin' ahead of us," he stated.

The Gascon looked at his comrade and pursed his lips. "I…uh…I had a biscuit at the Bonacieux's. I…"

"Nonsense!" Aramis interrupted. "You must eat more than a biscuit, my young friend. You will need the energy."

d'Artagnan looked over at the marksman and shrugged. "I'm fine…really," he said in reply.

Athos, who had been listening, it seemed, without much interest, looked up from his meal and eyed his protégé critically. "Eat, d'Artagnan. This is not a request, but an order," he drawled, his icy blue eyes narrowing as d'Artagnan met his gaze. He returned his attention to his own food when the young man gave a quick nod and reached for the meat. The four ate in silence, then drank the watered down wine that Serge brought. Once their meal was finished, Porthos and Aramis began to discuss in great detail their escapades from the previous evening. Athos was content to just listen, adding a comment here or there when the stories strayed a little too far from the actual events.

"I'm not lyin', Athos…that guy 'ad to 'ave been close to 300 pounds!" Porthos argued when Athos corrected him about a particular fellow who had taken offense to losing three straight hands to the smug musketeer, resulting in a fight that had lasted but a few minutes before the fellow in question had been dumped in the street in front of the tavern.

"More like 125," Aramis stated under his breath, a wry grin upon his lips.

"125!? Are you outa your mind?" Porthos bellowed good naturedly. He turned to the youngest at the table and smacked his arm. "You shoulda been there, whelp! I coulda used your scrappiness!" he said.

"I would have been there had I been invited," d'Artagnan mumbled under his breath.

"Huh?" Porthos queried as he eyed his young friend curiously.

d'Artagnan responded with a small grin and a slight shake of his head, but inside, his heart ached as he silently wished he had been there in person. He hadn't been invited though, so he had spent another night alone in his room, having been left to his own devices after dinner when Constance had been whisked out the door by her haughty husband, apparently being needed to accompany him to meet with a potential customer. The Gascon sighed as he shook himself from his reverie. Maybe one day he could go along with his friends without an invitation, but it was clear to him that they were not at that point yet and he certainly didn't want to be seen as a tag along or a puppy following mindlessly after his masters. Most days, the three men would disappear with nary a goodbye right after training was over for the day and d'Artagnan wouldn't see them until the next morning. There were a few rare occasions when the Gascon had been invited out, and those days were cherished as the best days he'd had since arriving in Paris, other than the day he had been made a recruit.

d'Artagnan struggled to understand why he was not welcomed to go with the Inseparables on their nightly excursions. Of course, they had a long history with each other, and no other musketeers accompanied them either, but it seemed as though they had taken a personal interest in his training, something that they did not do with the other recruits, and they seemed pleased to have him join them for meals at their table in the garrison, so why would they be so aloof when the day was over? The young man kept coming back to one conclusion…their disappointment in him over the whole Vadim fiasco. They had told him that he had done a good job, even the captain had said so, but he had also been scolded by Athos for going off script with the prison break and forcing them all to scramble to figure out how to fix the mess that it had caused. d'Artagnan knew that he had messed up and that it was only luck that everything had turned out okay. Vadim had known all along what d'Artagnan was doing, a huge failure on his part for not being convincing enough. It was Vadim's greed in the end that had brought him down…it had nothing to do with d'Artagnan's skill, at least in the Gascon's eyes. His failure with Vadim had seriously damaged his self confidence and he found himself wondering at his worth. It was this that led him to believe that if there was anything that caused the three men to keep d'Artagnan at arms length outside of duty, it had to be his failure with Vadim.

d'Artagnan sighed as he wondered if he would ever truly gain their acceptance and trust. Maybe when he finally earned his commission he would be counted as one of them. Or maybe not. Maybe it was his youth that caused him to be so insecure around these three men, he thought, as he had never been insecure before. Pondering this newest thought, he became lost to all that was happening around him. It was only when he sensed the three men rising from the table that he was brought out of his depressing musings. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Captain Treville standing at the railing outside of his rooms and realized that his comrades had been summoned. Another mission most likely that would take them away for a day or two, or more even, and leave the Gascon to train with the other musketeers who weren't as accepting of the young farmboy as the Inseparables were. Settling on the fact that he would once again be left completely on his own, d'Artagnan nearly missed it when the captain called his name as well. He looked at his three friends, all of whom had stopped and shared a surprised look with each other before turning their gazes on him, then turned to glance up at the captain.

"Sir?" d'Artagnan called as he rose to his feet and turned around.

Captain Treville cocked his head as he met his young recruit's eyes. "I said you are to come as well," he called before turning his back and retreating into his rooms.

"Oh, I…uh…yes, sir," d'Artagnan sputtered as he hurried to catch up to his friends. The three shared another look then turned and headed toward the stairs, leaving the Gascon to follow behind, wondering all along what their shared looks meant.

Once all four men were standing before the captain's desk, Treville looked up and met his second in commands gaze. "I have a letter that I need to have delivered," he started. "It is of upmost importance that it be delivered safely into the hands of one Pierre Ribault, who will then deliver it to its final destination. You will leave immediately to Orleans and meet the courier outside the walls of the Ste Croix Cathedral the day after tomorrow…and you will take d'Artagnan with you," he finished as he stood and handed the letter to Athos. "I can't impress upon you enough how important this letter is. If it were to fall into the wrong hands it could be disastrous for France. This letter must get through."

d'Artagnan didn't miss the look that once again passed between the three men upon hearing that he would be accompanying them on this mission. It infuriated him that they didn't seem to feel that he should go along. Hadn't he trained hard every day? Done everything asked of him and more? Hadn't he proven that he was good enough? It all came back to Vadim, d'Artagnan was sure of it and it made him feel angry and hurt all at the same time. He was about to voice his feelings when Athos beat him to it.

"Sir, with all due respect, do you really think that with the urgency and importance of this mission that bringing d'Artagnan along would be for the best? The road between Paris and Orleans is wrought with danger and the lad has barely begun his training. Surely it would do him more good to stay here and continue with it," the man said, further infuriating the young Gascon.

"d'Artagnan is far ahead of any of the other recruits with his training and I feel this mission will go a long way in furthering what he has already learned," Captain Treville started. "As you said, the road is wrought with danger, making a fourth man quite necessary."

"But surely a more seasoned musketeer, rather than a recruit, would be better for the job, sir?"

Treville let out an irritated breath and came around the desk. He glanced at his young recruit and immediately saw the anger that boiled in his dark eyes. He turned to Athos and folded his arms over his chest. "How is our Gascon to learn if he is left at the garrison?" he asked.

Aramis cleared his throat and offered his own remark. "Perhaps something that is not quite so dangerous would be more appropriate for d'Artagnan's first real mission outside of Paris, is what I think Athos means…sir?" he supplied haltingly.

As Treville opened his mouth to answer, d'Artagnan stepped forward and looked angrily at his friends. "You know, I'm right here!" he blurted. "I am perfectly capable of handling myself in dangerous situations. It isn't like I've never faced danger before…and look, I'm still here!" he cried, his arms stretched out to his sides.

"Of course yer capable, whelp," Porthos said as he glanced over at his young friend. "Nobody is sayin' you aren't."

"Well, that's what it sounds like to me," d'Artagnan spat.

"Alright, alright," Treville said. "I've made my decision and that is that d'Artagnan will accompany you. Now, go prepare your horses for the trip. You will have to camp out as there is no money to spare for lodgings." With that, Treville moved back around his desk and dropped into his chair. He picked up the pile of papers before him and began to ruffle through them, thus making it clear that there would be no further discussions.

d'Artagnan wasted no time in rushing to the door and flinging it open. He was already half way down the stairs when the three musketeers exited the captain's office. He ignored the calls of his friends as he hurried across the garrison yard toward the stables and didn't look up when the three men entered the stables a few moments after him.

"d'Artagnan, look at me," Athos commanded as he stepped up to where the young man had begun to prepare his horse. When d'Artagnan gave no indication that he would follow the order, Athos grabbed his arm and pulled him around. d'Artagnan hissed in anger as he yanked his arm away.

"I know what you're going to say, Athos! I'm not ready for this mission…I'll only be burden!" the young man cried, his dark eyes flashing as he glared at his mentor. "Well, I am ready! I won't be a burden!"

Athos sighed as he took in the angry young man before him. "d'Artagnan…I wasn't going to say that you will be a burden. I…"

"But I'm not ready, right?"

"No, I do not believe that you are ready," Athos answered honestly. "If we are set upon by men who wish to take this letter away from us, you are ill prepared to handle the situation. It isn't that you aren't a good swordsman, or fighter…it is that you are not experienced if something should happen."

The young man studied his mentor for several moments before he responded. "And how will I become experienced if I am always left behind?"

"It's only because we worry about you, lad," Porthos offered as he stepped forward from where he and Aramis stood watching their two friends.

"Because you don't trust me!" d'Artagnan cried.

"We do trust you, d'Artagnan. We just…" Aramis began, only to be cut off when d'Artagnan turned his angry eyes on him.

"You don't trust me! You don't think I can handle myself in a fight…Athos just said as much!"

"That's enough!" Athos barked. "It matters not what we think, Treville has given his command and we must follow it. I only wished to convey to our young Gascon that it was nothing personal, but he has made it clear that he will hear none of our words. Now go, d'Artagnan! Get warm clothing and blankets. Once you have done that, get enough provisions for the four of us from Serge for a week. The three of us will prepare the horses."

d'Artagnan gave a quick nod then pushed through his friends and rushed from the stables. Athos sighed as he watched the young man go, then turned to his companions. "That one is still too hot headed. We must keep a close eye on him, but we also must remember…the mission comes first. This letter must be delivered at all costs," he said. The three men shared a look then Porthos and Aramis nodded in agreement. They went to work preparing the four horses while they waited for their youngest member to return, all with heavy hearts and troubled minds at how the day had turned.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The four men rode in silence as they made their way toward Orleans. Athos and Aramis led the way, while Porthos and d'Artagnan brought up the rear of their small party. When d'Artagnan had returned with clothing and provisions, he had said not one word. He filled the saddle bags and waited for Athos' instructions, but kept silent the entire time. The three Inseparables each silently hoped that the young Gascon's mood would improve. It wasn't that long of a trip, a quick two and half day ride, but when one was in such a sour state of mind, it could make it seem a lot longer. It was unnatural that the lad was so quiet and it unnerved them all immensely. After several hours of riding, the three were becoming irritated, when before they were more concerned than anything. As the light of the day slowly began to turn to dusk, they began their search for a place to bed down for the night. Finally, they found a nice protected area within the trees not far off of the road. They dismounted their horses and tied them to a tree then began to make camp.

"d'Artagnan, go and gather kindling and firewood," Athos said as he pulled his bedroll from his saddle bag. "It looks as though there will be a chill tonight."

They young man nodded before hurrying into the trees in search of the requested wood. He took his time, wandering through the forest, grumbling under his breath as he picked up small pieces of branches to use as kindling and larger pieces to use to stoke the fire during the night. With a large armload he headed back to the camp. Once he broke through the trees, he dropped the wood and kindling in the center of the circle his companions had formed. He noticed that they had brought out the provisions and were starting to eat and he felt a pang of hurt that they hadn't waited for him. They talked amongst themselves, only briefly looking up to acknowledge him. He ignored their conversation as he once again headed out into the forest, stopping only when Porthos called to him.

"Where are you going, lad? This fire isn't going to light itself," the large musketeer queried.

d'Artagnan turned and tilted his head as he met his friend's gaze. "I need to gather more firewood if we are to keep the fire burning through the night," he answered. "Surely with what I have already collected one of you can get the fire going?"

"Come build the fire, then you can go for more firewood," Athos said, his eyes never lifting from where he was laying out his meal before him.

"But…"

"That's an order, d'Artagnan," Athos said, his blue eyes finally rising to meet the young man's glare.

"Yes, sir!" d'Artagnan quipped before he made his way back into the center of the camp and dropped down to prepare the campfire. In short order there was a roaring blaze and without another word, the Gascon stood and hurried back into the forest, unaware of the three sets of eyes that followed him until he was out of sight.

"Maybe we were too hard on the lad?" Porthos asked once he was sure d'Artagnan was out of ear shot.

Athos looked up and shook his head. "He needs to learn to follow orders, no matter what those orders are," he drawled. "Besides, all recruits are made to set up camp, including gathering wood and starting the fire before they are allowed to rest. Our hard headed young friend is no different."

"Yes, but with everything that has occurred today, maybe we could cut him some slack?" Aramis queried, his dark eyes moving to the tree line then returning to his brothers.

"It is because of what occurred today that we must stick to the norm. If d'Artagnan is so sure that he is ready to go on a mission such as this so early in his training, then he is quite ready to be broken in like everyone else is," Athos answered.

Porthos and Aramis nodded, but inside they felt the weight of guilt press upon them. It was obvious that the lad was hurting and neither one could fully blame him for that. The way the morning had gone they could understand why he would take what they had said as a slight to his abilities when that couldn't be further from the truth. They couldn't change what had happened, but they could hope that by the end of this mission, their young friend would see that they did trust him and his abilities. They hoped that he would eventually see things from their perspective that such a raw recruit was not ready for such a dangerous and important mission. They still wondered at Treville's insistence that the Gascon join them when normally he would scoff at the mere suggestion of such a thing, but could only speculate about his reasoning. Finally, they both shared a quick look then went back to their meal. It would all work out in the end, they were sure of it.

It was close to an hour later when a tired and hungry d'Artagnan walked back into camp, his arms burdened with enough firewood to last the night. He stopped just inside the trees when he saw that his companions had not only finished their meals, but had taken to their bedrolls, already presumably asleep. "They couldn't even wait for me to return," he whispered as he slowly made his way to the campsite. He stacked the wood he had gathered then placed a few more pieces into the dwindling flames. He jumped slightly when Athos' voice suddenly called out to him.

"You are on first watch. Wake Porthos in two hours, then you can rest."

d'Artagnan looked to where his mentor lay and sighed when he saw that the man hadn't even looked at him when giving his command. He looked around the circle and saw that his blankets had been taken out of his saddle bag, but not laid out. He gave a small smile as he actually hadn't expected even this small token. He searched out the bags that held their rations and quickly pulled out enough for a small meal. He ate his meal then settled in for first watch. Two hours later he woke Porthos and once the man was awake, he climbed beneath his blanket and quickly fell asleep. Morning came quickly and after a rushed breakfast, the four men broke camp and were on the road again.

"We ride until midday when we will stop and give the horses a rest and eat a meal," Athos said as they rode once again toward Orleans. "We will stop for the night at sundown and finish our trek by mid-morning tomorrow."

The others nodded their agreement as they fell in to their same formation from the previous day. At midday, they stopped for lunch then were back on the road within the hour. As the sky began to quickly darken, Athos called for them to stop.

"We are losing the light. We should start looking for a place to stop for the night," Athos said as he looked around at their surroundings. "Those trees over there should do the trick," he added. "It sounds as if the stream runs close so we can fill our water skins and get the horses to drink."

The men nodded and turned their horses off the road and toward the trees, but Athos slowed and turned toward the other three. "d'Artagnan, ride up the road a bit. I believe you will find more firewood there than where we plan to camp," he said.

The Gascon cocked his head and eyed his mentor questioningly. "If there is more firewood up ahead, why don't we just find a place to camp there?" he asked.

"Because, like I said, I can hear the stream and it sounds like it runs just on the other side of those trees. If I'm not mistaken, I believe it makes a turn away from the road just ahead. The horses need to drink and we are quickly losing daylight," Athos explained with just a hint of irritation in his voice.

D'Artagnan nodded then turned back toward the road. "Use your bedroll to wrap the wood in…that way you can get enough for the night in one trip," Athos called. With a wave of his hand as the only indication that d'Artagnan had heard, the Gascon was off down the road. When he was far enough away, Athos turned to Porthos. "Follow him…make sure he doesn't get into any trouble, but don't follow too closely," he said. Porthos nodded and made his way back up to the road. He followed his young friend, keeping a safe distance between them until he saw him disappear around a bend in the road. He kept up his slow pace, never expecting the scene that would greet him as he too came around the bend.

 **Uh oh...this sounds ominous. What does Porthos see? You'll find out in the next chapter :D, which I will post just as soon as I can! Thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	3. Chapter 3 - The Taking of d'Artagnan

**Wow, look at me posting after only a few days! That's what happens when I'm not swimming in work :D Don't expect this with every chapter though...work is going to get busy again in a few days. A quick thank you to all who read the last chapter, and an extra shout out to those who took the time to comment. I so appreciate it! This chapter is the beginning of bad things for d'Artagnan so be prepared. I'm not really nice to him. Poor guy :'( So, on with the story!**

 **Cindy**

Chapter 3 – The Taking of d'Artagnan

Porthos slowed his horse as he came around the bend, the large man wanting to keep from being seen if at all possible. He leaned sideways in his saddle and craned his neck to see if d'Artagnan was still on the road of if he had ventured off into the trees, but suddenly pulled up short when he saw that indeed, the Gascon was still on the road, though he was not alone. Fear seized Porthos at the scene that was laid out before him. d'Artagnan had been forced to his knees, one hand of his captor fisted tightly in his dark hair, his head pulled back as he glared up at a large man who stood over him. Porthos could just make out a trickle of blood tracing a path down the side of the young man's face. Three men lay on the ground around the scene, presumably dead, and Porthos felt pride well up in him. He squinted his eyes against the encroaching darkness and counted at least ten men beside the obvious leader, too many for Porthos to take on his own. He'd only get himself captured too and that wouldn't help the Gascon. How d'Artagnan could find such huge trouble in such a short span of time crossed the large musketeers thoughts, but he shook away his thoughts when the large man spoke. Luckily, the trees served to carry the words to Porthos' ears even though he was some distance away and turned his head slightly so that he could pick up every word.

"Where is the letter, musketeer?" the large man queried.

d'Artagnan lifted his chin in defiance and said nothing. The large man leaned over and grabbed d'Artagan's face, his fingers digging painfully into the soft skin, pulling himself to within inches of d'Artagnan's face. "Answer me, boy! Where is the letter?!"

"What letter?" was d'Artagnan's reply, receiving a backhand to the face for his efforts. Porthos growled at his friend's treatment, but smiled as the young man continued to glare up at his tormentor.

"Where are your fellow musketeers?" the man asked.

"I am not a musketeer," d'Artagnan said, his voice lacking any interest in the conversation. Athos would be proud if he were here to witness it, Porthos thought.

"You travel with three musketeers. You do not bear the insignia, but you are most definitely with them."

"I travel alone."

The man chuckled as he began to slowly pace before the restrained Gascon. "You see, I know that you are lying. My informant saw you with the three musketeers."

"Your informant is mistaken." D'Artagnan continued to glare up at his captor defiantly, though inside his heart was beating nearly out of his chest. He knew that Porthos had followed him and he also knew the man was smart enough to not try a rescue on his own, but surely he would go back for Athos and Aramis. With this in mind, d'Artagnan grinned up at the man before him. The man smiled back, though there was no humor there.

"Jean! Come here!" the man called. Seconds later a smaller, older man appeared at his side. "Is this one of the men you passed yesterday evening? Was he riding with three musketeers?"

"Yes, sir. This is one of the four. I know, because I wondered of his young age and being with musketeers," the older man, Jean, replied.

The large man turned back to d'Artagnan and shrugged. "You see, he is not mistaken. He remembers you quite clearly."

"Who are you? What do you want from me?"

"I am Auguste Amyot and I want the letter you carry," the man answered.

"I carry no letter," d'Artagnan hissed.

"Then one of your friends carry it."

"I travel alone…your man has mistaken me for someone else."

"My man does not make mistakes. None of my men make mistakes because they know if they do, they are dead," Auguste calmly said. "Now, tell me who carries the letter and I'll kill you quickly with no suffering," he added.

"I do not know of any letter and I do not know of any musketeers," d'Artagnan seethed through clenched teeth.

Auguste glanced skyward and sighed. "Bind his wrists and tie him to my horse's saddle," he commanded. "You five," he called, pointing at five men who stood behind the man who held d'Artagnan, "drag the bodies off the road…hide them in the trees and then you go find the musketeers. Bring them to the manor!"

"Shit!" Porthos hissed. He turned his horse around and as quickly and quietly as he could made his way back toward the trees where his brothers would be setting up camp. He spotted the trees and left the road, thankful for the ever darkening sky. He heard the pounding of hooves on the road just as he slipped into the cover of the trees. He spared one glance over his shoulder before he made his way into the forest to where his friends waited. When he spotted them, he was off his horse in one fluid motion and running toward his brothers. They both looked up from where they were rolling out their beds for the night, their eyes widening at the manic look in Porthos' eyes.

"Porthos? What is it?" Aramis asked as he stepped toward the large man, his dark eyes darting behind his friend before returning to meet his eye. "Where is d'Artagnan?"

"Taken!" Porthos cried, his voice panicked.

"Taken? What do you mean taken?" Athos was there before him in an instant, his hands grasping the larger man's arms.

"There were too many of them for me to fight! They took 'im and they are coming after us! We have to find them! We have to find d'Artagnan before they…"

"Porthos, take a breath," Athos instructed. When his friend obeyed, he continued. "Who has taken d'Artagnan?"

"Uh, 'is name…he said 'is name was Auguste Amyot. He knew about the letter. He knew that d'Artagnan rode with us. I didn't help 'im! He was hurt and I didn't help 'im!"

Aramis gently placed his hand on Porthos' shoulder. "Porthos, you said there were too many. If you had tried to help you too could have been captured. You did the right thing in coming back to us," he soothed.

"I should've done something!"

Athos shook his head as he looked at his friend. "No, Aramis is right…you did the right thing," he said. "How many were there?"

"Uh…ten, not including that bastard Amyot who hit d'Artagnan…'e must be the leader," Porthos growled. "He had d'Artagnan tied to his horse and sent five of his men to look for us…'e told them to bring us to the manor."

"The manor? There's not much out here…what manor could he be speaking of?" Athos questioned.

"I don't know, Athos! I do know that we are wastin' time! We have to find the pup before they hurt him more!" Porthos snapped.

Athos let out a stuttered breath as he looked at his two friends. "No, the letter has to reach Pierre Ribault in Orleans tomorrow."

"What are you saying, Athos?" Aramis asked warily. "We cannot leave d'Artagnan to whatever awaits him, brother."

"This is how it has to be! The letter is top priority…you both know that!"

"More important than d'Artagnan?" Porthos queried, his voice shaking with anger.

"Our mission is to deliver this letter…at all costs," Athos softly said. "I don't like it any more than you two, but…"

"At all costs? So you are fine with it costing us d'Artagnan?" Porthos shook his head and turned away from Athos in disgust.

"No! I am not fine with any of this, Porthos! There's nothing I want more than to find our Gascon, but we are musketeers! We have to make hard decisions at times, and this is one of those times. I do not know what this letter contains, but the urgency of which it was given to us leads me to believe that the very safety of France and all of its people could be at stake! I do not want to lose d'Artagnan, but I have to put the mission first, my friend. I have to…we have to."

Porthos turned and met his brother's gaze. "Then you and Aramis go. I can't leave 'im to suffer whatever that madman has planned for 'im," he said. He turned to return to his horse, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"You cannot go after him alone, Porthos," Aramis said. "With that many men, and possibly more at this manor you spoke of, you would in all likelihood be taken yourself."

"At least the pup wouldn't be alone. At least 'e would know that we care about 'im. That we came for 'im."

"He knows that we care, Porthos," Athos said.

"Does 'e?"

"Of course he does. Why wouldn't he?"

"Oh, I don't know. Our little argument yesterday maybe? Sending 'im out for firewood by 'imself while we rested at camp? The fact that 'e thinks 'e needs to be invited to come out with us at the end of the day? Do you want me to go on?"

"What do you mean?" Aramis asked.

"At breakfast yesterday…when I said that 'e shoulda been there…I heard 'im say under 'is breath that 'e wasn't invited. I don't think I was meant to hear, but I did."

"He's been out with us before…I'm sure you heard wrong," Athos said as he moved to pack up the items he had taken from his saddle bags.

"Only a few times, and only when we asked him to come," Aramis said. "I think Porthos is right…if he thinks he cannot join us without an invitation, that speaks to the possibility that he may believe we are only interested in him in a purely professional way."

"Madness. Of course we see him as more than just a fellow soldier…why would he think otherwise?" Athos asked.

"We leave as soon as training day is over, while 'e is still cleaning up," Porthos offered. "I guess I always just expected 'im to show up, but 'e never does. I never thought to ask 'im about it…thought maybe his attraction to 'is landlady was what led 'im to his lodgings rather than out with us. Until yesterday that is."

"And he will know that we care once we have freed him from his captors," Athos said. "But right now, we must leave. You said there were men searching for us…the longer we stay here and talk, the better chance they have of finding us."

"So we are going after him?" Porthos asked hopefully.

Athos sighed and turned to his friend. "After we deliver the letter, we will look for him," he answered.

"Athos, 'e may be dead by then!"

"I'm sorry, Porthos, I truly am, but this letter has to be delivered on time and I need both you and Aramis with me to make sure that happens. I believe our young friend to be quite resourceful. He'll find a way to stay alive until we can locate him, and we stand a better chance of rescuing him if there are three of us."

"'e may be resourceful and 'e may be able to stay alive, but at what cost? I 'ave a very bad feeling about this, Athos."

"Then we must get the letter delivered so we can begin our search," Athos replied. "We will follow the stream, keep to the trees until we are certain we have not been spotted, then we will find a place to rest until first light. We will ride on to Orleans, deliver the letter, then head back to where you saw d'Artagnan taken. We will find him, Porthos…I promise."

Porthos eyed his friend then finally gave a short nod. He climbed onto his horse and waited for his brothers to finish repacking their things. Once they were ready they made their way to the stream, and keeping to the cover of the trees, they made their way, with heavy hearts, toward Orleans, and away from their young recruit.

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d'Artagnan stumbled, not for the first time, and hissed in pain as Amyot yanked on the length of rope that bound him to the criminal's horse. His wrists were rubbed raw and he was sure that in places the skin had torn. He cursed his captors for not allowing him to ride his horse, and with that thought he glanced longingly at the beast that was being led by one of the other riders. His inattentiveness to the path they traveled cost him as his foot caught an exposed tree root and he pitching forward, hitting the ground hard and jarring his already aching body. Amyot looked down at him, but did not slow his pace, thus dragging the helpless young man through the rough terrain. d'Artagnan cried out as his hip met a rock jutting out of the earth. Finally, Amyot stopped and commanded the Gascon to his feet.

"I cannot go much further. Allow me the use of my horse and we will get to this manor of yours much sooner," d'Artagnan reasoned as he slowly, and painfully, pushed himself to his feet.

"Oh, my young friend, believe me, you don't want to get to the manor any faster than our pace will take us, for what awaits you there will surely make you wish I had killed you on the road," Amyot said with a sickening sweet drawl and a smile on his face.

"I am not your friend and anything you do to me will be in vain, for I know nothing of what you seek," d'Artagnan hissed.

"Fine, have it your way. We can begin the interrogation tonight rather than waiting for morning," Amyot proclaimed. He turned to two of his men and nodded at them to dismount. He untied the rope from his saddle and tossed it to one of the men when they came to stand beside their prisoner. "Take him and put him on his horse. Tie him securely. If he wishes to reach the manor so badly, let's not deny him," he said with an evil sneer.

The two men nodded and dragged the exhausted young man to his horse. Between the two of them, they got him onto his horse then tied the rope securely around the saddle horn. Next, they tied another length of rope to one ankle, drew the rope beneath the horse's belly, then tied the end to his other ankle, pulling tight to assure that he could move neither foot. The two men mounted their horses and they were once again off through the dark forest at a quicker pace than before, their way lit by torches three of the men held. Not much farther down the path, Amyot held up his hand, halting all of his men. He turned his horse and come back until he was beside d'Artagnan. The Gascon widened his eyes when he saw the gun in the man's hand and instinctively leaned away from him.

"I think at this point you do not need to see the rest of the way to the manor…just in case," Amyot said. Before d'Artagnan could react, excrutiating pain exploded through his head as Amyot slammed his gun against the young man's temple. d'Artagnan swayed sideways, the ropes binding his hands and ankles the only thing keeping him from falling from his horse. He groaned as he felt hands grab his hair and pull him back up. The hand let go and he felt himself slump forward, his vision swimming before finally the darkness enveloped him and he lost his precarious hold on consciousness.

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d'Artagnan groaned as consciousness returned, slowly, but surely. He felt different, but he didn't know why. He no longer felt like he was sitting, and his shoulders ached incredibly. He peeled his eyes open and waited for his vision to clear. He was in a room lit by a single torch and there was no window that he could see. That, however was the least of his problems he determined when he realized that his arms were pulled high up over his head and shackled to the cold wall behind him, his feet just barely touching the ground. He groaned again as pain shot through his head and he squeezed his eyes shut when the room began to spin. His stomach roiled and swallowed against the rising bile, but could not keep the vomit down as it erupted from his mouth. He'd barely eaten anything at breakfast or lunch, so most of what came up was liquid that burned his throat and nose. He continued to heave, even when there was nothing left to bring up, and was panting heavily when the convulsions in his stomach finally stopped. His head dropped forward, chin to his chest as he breathed through the continuing pain. The sound of a door opening brought his attention back to his predicament and he lifted his head to see Amyot stroll into the room with two of his men behind him.

"Ah, look who's finally awake!" Amyot quipped as he stepped up to the young man. "I was beginning to think you were never going to join us. I've been most anxious to start our conversation!"

"Nothin' to talk 'bout," d'Artagnan said hoarsely.

"Oh, but there is, my friend. We have so much to talk about."

"Told you…not your friend."

"Well, no, not really, but I figured we could keep things civil."

"You call this civil?" d'Artagnan spat.

"It can be if you just tell me where the letter is. We already searched you and your horse so I know that you don't have it. Tell me which one of the musketeers has it and I won't make you suffer…too much," Amyot said with a wicked grin.

"Go to hell!" d'Artagnan hissed before spitting in the man's face.

Amyot stepped back, rage flaring in his eyes. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mess from his face. "You're going to regret that, boy," he hissed.

d'Artagnan sank back against the wall as the enraged man moved toward him, his dark eyes glued to the knife that the man now held. "Tell me where the letter is," Amyot spat as he held the knife in front of d'Artagnan's face.

The Gascon shifted his gaze from the knife and looked the man in the eye. "What letter?" he asked defiantly.

Amyot smiled as he cocked his head and looked the young man up and down. "So that's how you want to play it then. Good," he said before he plunged the knife deep into d'Artagnan's shoulder. A scream ripped from the Gascon's throat as he felt the knife hit bone. He screamed again when the knife was twisted. Amyot pressed forward with his body, twisting the knife further as he stared the young man down. "Where is the letter?"

d'Artagnan swallowed back another scream and closed his eyes. "What letter?" he answered.

Amyot growled and the interrogation continued.

 **Oh boy, not looking good for our Gascon. I hope the Inseparables can find him before it's too late! I think Amyot needs to feel some pain at some point, don't you all? Please let me know what you think and I'll get working on the next chapter as soon as I can. Take care and thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	4. Chapter 4 - Regrets and Torture

**I'm back! Thank you to all who are still reading this story, and a huge thanks to all who leave me reviews...they make this all worth while! Things are getting bad for our Gascon...I'm so cruel to the poor guy...but hopefully things will turn around for him, but not too soon ;) I'll just let you get on with it to see what I've decided to put him through this time!**

 **Cindy**

Chapter 4 – Regrets and Torture

Athos led the way along the stream, his eyes constantly searching the trees around them, his ears pricked for any sound that did not belong. Aramis was immediately behind him with Porthos bringing up the rear and they too had their eyes and ears on alert. They followed the stream for some time, stopping when Athos called for them to halt. He leaned slightly forward over his saddle as he scanned the trees on the other side of the stream.

"What is it?" Aramis whispered, his eyes searching the surrounding trees where Athos was intently staring. Though night had fully come now, the moon provided enough light for them to make their way without too much danger, for which the three were incredibly thankful.

Athos glanced at his friend before returning his gaze to the trees. "I saw movement, I'm sure of it," he replied.

With that, the three quickly, and quietly, pulled their weapons and prepared themselves. They waited several minutes and just when they thought that it had been a false alarm, two men burst through the trees, the first one firing off a shot from his musket, the shot narrowly missing Aramis' head, though his hat was not so lucky. The second man attempted a shot as well, but the shot went wide when he was hit with the force of a bull when Porthos threw himself from his horse and tackled the hapless rider. The two men rolled on the ground, but the smaller man didn't stand a chance. It took one punch to the side of his head to knock the man into oblivion. When Porthos pulled himself from the ground and looked around, he found Aramis picking up his hat, cursing colorfully as he poked his finger through the hole the first man's musket ball had put through the top. Porthos grinned before turning to find where his other brother was, sighing in relief when he saw that Athos had the swordfight he was currently engaged in fully under control.

"Musketeer scum," the attacker hissed as he dodged Athos' sword.

"Surrender you sword, Monsieur, and I won't be forced to kill you," Athos responded.

"Kill me, and you will never find your boy!" the man spat. He grinned when Athos flinched at his remark, but the swordsman immediately recovered struck out with his sword.

"We will find him with, or without you," Athos spat. "Now drop your sword!"

"But will you find him in time? He is in the hands of Auguste Amyot, a man both feared and respected! He will…"

Porthos and Aramis moved closer to the waning battle, the larger man tilting his head at the threat. "Never 'eard of 'im…must not be all that feared or respected," he quipped as he glanced over at the marksman to his right.

"He sounds like a dandy to me," Aramis added. "Athos, what do you think? Does Auguste sound like a dandy to you?"

Athos spared a glance at his friend and shrugged. "I don't know about that, but the name certainly does not strike fear into my heart," the swordsman answered.

The man's face turned red with rage at the slight to his boss and lunged forward as he brought his sword up over his head.

"Athos!" Porthos called in alarm.

Athos pressed his sword forward, catching the surprised man in the chest, just below his heart. His face went deathly pale as he lowered his eyes to the sword protruding from his ribs. He looked up at Athos and grinned, his teeth red as blood bubbled up over his lips. "You've just killed the boy," he wheezed, his eyes dulling as he spoke. Athos leaned close and bared his teeth. "We have your comrade to lead us to him, we do not need you," he hissed as reached up with his free hand and pushed the man off his blade. The man's knees buckled, his sword falling free from his grip as he hit the ground, his body swaying before finally toppling over backward. He gurgled around the blood in this throat, his eyes searching the star lit sky before falling shut, never to open again. Athos stepped back and turned toward his brothers.

"Tie the other one to his horse. We'll travel a few more hours and then make camp. We'll leave for Orleans before dawn. If we hurry we can still make our rendezvous with Ribault," he said.

"Wait? What?" Porthos exclaimed. "We're going after d'Artagnan, Athos! We'll get this bastard to lead the way and we'll get our brother back!"

Athos let out a deep breath and met his friends gaze. "We cannot stray from our appointed mission, Porthos," he said, regretfully, yet firmly.

"But, Athos, we have…"

"We have to stick to the plan!" Athos snapped. He brushed his hand through his hair and dropped his head. "Do you think I want to leave him there where God knows what is happening to him? Do you believe that I have not regretted having to make this decision…over and over again since we started down this stream? It is killing me inside to have to go on without him," he softly said.

"Athos," Aramis started, stopping when Athos lifted his head and looked at him with tear filled eyes.

"I want to blame Treville…I want to curse his name for sending d'artagnan with us, but I can't do it. It's my fault he was taken. I should have never sent him alone, but I was punishing him…punishing him for something that was not his fault!"

"You didn't send him alone, Athos."

"No, I didn't. I sent Porthos to follow him when it should have been me, but I didn't want to deal with him. I was angry at him, and for what? For wanting to prove himself? For wanting to feel a part of it all?"

"You didn't know this would happen…"

"But it did happen and I made the decision to leave him and…God forgive me, but I still think it is the right decision, even though it's the hardest one that I've ever had to make…and believe me, I've had to make some hard decisions, and I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life…but we are musketeers and we have a job to do. We cannot risk the lives of thousands for the life of one, no matter who it is. We have to hope that this Amyot keeps d'Artagnan alive long enough for us to find him," Athos said.

Porthos glared at his leader, then shook his head. He turned away and did as he was told by lifting the unconscious man to his horse and securing him to the saddle. He took the reins in his hand and walked to his own horse where he swiftly mounted. He looked Athos in the eye and spoke. "If 'e isn't alive at the end of all of this, I don't know if I will be able to forgive you, Athos. I know lives could be at stake, but I don't know any of them…but I know d'Artagnan and I know 'e doesn't deserve to be forsaken by us, not for nothin' or nobody!"

Athos looked up at his friend and gave a short nod. "If he doesn't live through this, Porthos, I'll never forgive myself. It will be just another failure on my part to protect a brother," he said before he too mounted his horse and kicked it into motion.

Aramis and Porthos exchanged a curious look as they fell in behind their leader.

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d'Artagnan gasped as the knife was ripped from his shoulder. Amyot smiled gleefully, relishing the pain he was causing. He was used to getting his way, and this young nothing of a man would soon learn what denying him felt like. He stepped back, watching as blood freely flowed from the wound, staining the formerly white shirt red. As the boy's gasps gave way to shallow breaths, Amyot turned to his men.

"Bring in wood and prepare a fire in the hearth," the man instructed before turning once again to gaze upon his captive. "Who has the letter?" he asked, his smile disappearing when the Gascon lifted his head and rolled his eyes.

"You w-will never find out," d'Artagnan breathed out, the mere act of speaking causing pain to shoot through his chest.

"So, you finally acknowledge that you know about the letter." Amyot tilted his head and studied the young man. "Why do you protect those who so obviously care nothing about you? Why would they send you out on your own, knowing that with what they carry there would be attempts to obtain it?"

d'Artagnan glared at the man, though he was certain he came across more pathetic than fearsome. He would not let the man know that he felt his doubts about his comrades as well. He had been certain that Porthos would find Athos and Aramis and together they would rescue him, but that rescue hadn't come. When Amyot had sent out his men in search of the others, d'Artagnan was sure that they would soon be taken care of and his whereabouts learned, but again, there had been no sign of any impending rescue. Had Porthos warned the others and instead of finding him, they fled to complete their mission? Of course, d'Artagnan understood the importance of delivering the letter, even when he had no idea what it contained or who actually carried it, but his innocent and somewhat naive nature compelled him to hope that they would first seek to free him. Amyot stepped forward and pressed his thumb into the stab wound, smiling when it drew out a hoarse scream. Movement at the doorway drew the maniac away as his men returned with the requested wood. Soon, a fire was blazing in the hearth that until now, d'Artagnan hadn't noticed. Amyot disappeared from the Gascon's view, only to come back into his line of vision a few moments later. The young man's eyes widened when he watched his tormentor place a long iron poker into the fire. After a few minutes, Amyot pulled the poker from the fire, it's tip blazing red hot, and turned to his prisoner.

"I can't have you bleeding to death before I've finished my questioning, now can I?" he asked matter of factly.

Amyot stepped up to the struggling Gascon and smiled. "Remove his shirt," he commanded. Nodding, one of his men stepped forward and ripped d'Artagnan's blood soaked shirt open, then took a knife and sliced up first one sleeve, then the other. The shirt was pulled away, leaving d'Artagnan bare from the waist up. The young man shivered as the cool air reached is bare skin, or perhaps the sight of the glowing poker being twirled in the hands of the mad man before him was what caused his body to quake.

"D'Don't," d'Artagnan breathed out, his eyes watching as the poker was waved before his face.

Without warning, Amyot pushed the end of the poker into the stab wound. The scream that ripped from the Gascon's throat quickly filled the room and echoed down the hallway outside of the room. The air was filled with the smell of burning flesh and that, combined with the sizzling sound as his skin was seared turned the young man's stomach and brought on heaving that threatened to rip the Gascon apart from the inside out. The fact that there was nothing in his stomach to purge made the heaving that much more painful and coupled with the inferno that was his shoulder, d'Artagnan's vision soon began to darken, until finally, he fell into the blissful, painless depths of unconsciousness.

Amyot pulled the poker away then tossed it to the floor. He fisted his fingers into the Gascon's hair and lifted his limp head, eyeing the now peaceful face. "Rest well, boy…you're going to need it," he whispered. He let d'Artagnan's head drop back down then turned to his men. "Notify me the moment he awakens." The men nodded and watched as Amyot left then they moved to sit on the floor, one on each side of the doorway. They watched their prisoner intently, one feeling only contempt for the young man and one, a man of about forty years, watching the boy with a conflicted and heavy heart.

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They broke camp well before dawn and were on the road to Orleans when most people were still snuggled in their beds. Their prisoner had woken a few hours after they had made camp, but refused to speak when Aramis had questioned him on the whereabouts of their comrade. By the time they were on the road again, they still knew as much as they had known the night before. They had thankfully seen no more trouble from any of Amyot's men, to which they were eternally grateful. They had a lot of miles to cover before they reached Orleans and all three were beyond antsy to be on their way to find their missing brother. Porthos swore as they rode along that he would know where d'Artagnan was held by the time they delivered the cursed letter, or their captive would start losing body parts, one by one. When the man had merely scoffed behind his gag, Aramis had assured him that the large man never made idle threats and that he should start praying that he started with his fingers and not other more vital and important appendages. The man had paled at the implication. That was two hours ago and they had not slowed their pace. They knew at some point they would need to stop to let the horses rest, but the overwhelming need to get to Orleans and deliver their letter so they could get to the task that mattered most to them drove them on.

Athos rode at the lead, their prisoner's lead tied to his saddle, while Aramis and Porthos rode behind. Athos had been quiet the entire morning, and it was clear to both men that the burden of guilt lay heavily upon his shoulders. Porthos was still angry, not so much with Athos anymore, but the situation itself. He had turned to blaming himself for not helping the young Gascon when he had first been captured, thinking himself a coward for watching from afar. He was supposed to be watching out for the boy, but instead he watched him being manhandled and hit and didn't make a move to stop it. He was pulled from his musings at the touch of a hand on his arm. When he glanced over at Aramis, the marksman smiled sadly.

"Stop it, Porthos," Aramis said.

"Stop what?"

"Blaming yourself for what happened."

Porthos shook his head and turned his gaze to their prisoner. "I was right there, Aramis! I did nothing to help d'Artagnan! Who else should I blame?"

Aramis squeezed his brother's arm in comfort then dropped his hand away. "There was nothing you could have done. There were too many of them, even for you, Porthos. You did the right thing by coming back to us to warn us," he soothed.

"I should have tried! At least the pup would've known that 'e wasn't alone!"

"You would have most likely been captured as well. Athos and I would not have known anything was amiss until Amyot's men found us. We could have very well been captured too, or killed all of the men, not knowing that we would need to keep one alive to lead us to you and d'Artagnan. We would not know what happened to you or where to even begin to look," Aramis explained. "Because you used your head, we know who has d'Artagnan, we have someone who can lead us to him, and our mission will still be completed."

Porthos glanced over, his eyes conveying the misery he felt. "I abandoned 'im, Aramis. What 'e must be thinking right now…that 'e is alone…that 'is brothers have forsaken 'im. I yelled at Athos when I'm the one who could've stopped it."

"No, Porthos. There were too many of them, you said so yourself. Yes, you would have been with him, but it would have only made it harder to forge a rescue," Aramis said. "d'Artagnan knows we will come for him. He knows we would never forsake him."

Porthos let out a stuttered breath and looked straight ahead. "I hope yer right, Aramis," he said softly.

Aramis watched his friend for a few moments then he too turned his gaze to the road ahead. "I do too," he said to himself, his heart heavy with doubt.

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It started with a twinge that turned into an ache which morphed into a fiery inferno of pain. This is what brought d'Artagnan straight from blissful unawareness to full wakefulness in a matter of seconds. He groaned as he lifted his head, his bleary eyes taking in what he could see of the room. His attention was drawn to the doorway when the two men who had been left to watch him pushed themselves up from the floor and eyed him curiously.

"Go get Amyot," one of the men said as he stepped toward the chained Gascon. The other man nodded and hurried from the room. d'Artagnan cringed back against the wall when the remaining man approached him. "Shh, don't worry…I won't hurt you," the man said. He walked out of d'Artagnan's view and came back a moment later with a cup. "Here, drink this," he said as he brought the cup to the young man's lips. d'Artagnan turned his head, refusing the liquid even though his body cried out for it.

"It's only water," the man said. "Please, drink…and hurry. If Amyot knew I was doing this he would have my head."

d'Artagnan met the man's eyes then gave a short nod, his thirst winning out over his fear. The man once again put the cup to his lips and d'Artagnan began to drink. "Careful, do not spill any or he'll know," he cautioned. The man lowered the cup when it was empty and met the Gascon's eyes. "Thank you," d'Artagnan whispered weakly. The man nodded then returned the cup to wherever he had retrieved it from. He went back to the door and a few moments later the second man returned.

"Amyot is on his way," he said with a grin. "He is not in a good mood at all," he added gleefully, his eyes raking over the shivering form of their prisoner. The first man did not have time to reply as just then, Amyot strolled into the room, an angry scowl on his face. He went straight to his prisoner and backhanded him hard across the face. d'Artagnan's vision darkened at the edges from the blow, but he didn't lose consciousness. He gasped when his hair was grasped and his head yanked up from where it had dropped.

"Now that I have your attention…tell me who carries the letter," Amyot hissed.

"I d-don't know about any letter," was d'Artagnan's pain filled reply.

Amyot released the Gascon's hair, only to grip his face and shove his head against the wall. "You will tell me what I want to know, or when your friends are finally brought here, I will make them suffer like you couldn't even imagine," he snarled. His face turned red with rage when his captor merely smiled at him.

"Get him down!" Amyot shouted. The two men who had been d'Artagnan's guards rushed forward, one catching a key that Amyot tossed. They unlocked the shackles from his wrists and pulled him free. He screamed in agony as his arms dropped, aggravating the stab wound on his shoulder. His knees buckled and he would have dropped to the floor if not for the man who had earlier given him water catching him.

"Take him to the barrel," Amyot commanded.

d'Artagnan felt another set of hands join those of the man who held him before he was roughly dragged across the room. His eyes widened when he was where he was being taken and he fought against the hands that held him. A punch to his side took the fight out of him and he was swiftly dragged to where a large barrel full of water sat. A short platform sat in front of the barrel and d'Artagnan was forced into a kneeling position upon the platform. While the men held him, Amyot grabbed his injured arm and pulled it forward, eliciting an agonizing scream from the Gascon. The man secured his wrist to the wall above the barrel by a single shackle, then moved around him and secured the other wrist in the same fashion, leaving the young man with his arms spread just past shoulder width, his head hanging over the barrel of water. The two men stepped back as Amyot came to stand behind d'Artagnan. The Gascon gasped as his head was yanked up by his hair and twisted to the side. He glared up into the eyes of his tormentor.

"Tell me everything that you know about the letter…who carries it, where is it to be delivered and to whom will it be handed over," Amyot spat.

"Go to hell!" d'Artagnan spat back.

Amyot screamed out in rage as he shoved the Gascon's head beneath the surface of the water. d'Artagnan struggled with all his might, desperately pulling at the shackles around his wrists, tearing the flesh that hadn't already been shredded. He held his breath and fought against the weight holding him down, but soon his vision began to gray and his strength began to ebb. Just when he thought he would pass out for lack of air, he was dragged up out of the water, the grip still tight in his hair. He sucked in large breaths then coughed up the small amount of water he had sucked in when his head had been dunked. He continued to gasp and sputter until finally he felt as though he was getting some air into his lungs.

"Tell me what you know," Amyot commanded.

"Never," d'Artagnan replied, his voice weak from screaming and lack of air.

Amyot shoved his head into the water again, this time so hard that d'Artagnan's chest would be bruised as it was pressed against the edge of the barrel. The young man struggled, but it was no use. He felt himself begin to drift away and stopped fighting against the hand that held him. Maybe it was better this way, he thought idly as the darkness came.

 **Okay, let me have it! I know, quite the cliffy, but I like cliffies :D Please let me know what you think and I'll get started right away on the next chatper. Thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	5. Chapter 5

**So sorry for the delay in getting this posted. I worked on it on Friday, determined that I would get it posted, but then a spur of the moment meeting came up and I was unable to finish it. I tried to get to it yesterday, but it was most definitely a Monday! Anyway, I finally got it done today!**

 **Thank you for the continued support of this story. The comments keep me going and I so appreciate them!**

 **So, on with the story :)**

Chapter 5 – A Secret Revealed

 _Maybe it was better this way, he thought idly as the darkness came._

Pain. Pain is what brought him back from the brink. A sudden crushing pain in the middle of his back coming over and over and over again. He gasped, drew in one rattling, shaky breath and then he heaved, water spewing out into the barrel and onto the wall behind it. So much water…water he hadn't known he'd swallowed as he was being drowned. He vaguely felt the hand fisted in his hair again, the pain from that miniscule compared to the pain in his back…in his shoulder…in his chest. Finally, the heaving stopped and d'Artagnan sucked in air like he'd never done before. He was breathing again, or rather wheezing and the dark spots were slowly beginning to end their dance in front of his eyes. He felt the pain then from his head, but only because he was pulled further back, his neck now extended further than he thought possible. He felt hot breath on the side of his face as his tormentor spoke.

"Not yet, _clebard_ , there is much more we need to discuss…like who is carrying the letter…where is your meeting place and who is the courier?"

d'Artagnan rolled his eyes up to glare at Amyot. "Even if I knew, it would be a cold day in hell before I told you," he hissed.

Amyot sneered at the young man as he pulled back. "Then I guess you need some more convincing, hmmm?" he snarled. He went to push the Gascon's head back beneath the water when there was a commotion at the door to the room. Amyot released d'Artagnan's hair and stepped to where one of his men waited. The young man's head dropped, his forehead kissing the surface of the water as he took deep breaths to steady his heart. His ears pricked up when Amyot spoke.

"Did you get them? Where are they?" Amyot queried impatiently.

The man swallowed fearfully as he faced his employer. "I'm sorry, sir…we did not find them," the man said nervously. d'Artagnan sucked in a painful breath, hope flaring inside of him at the prospect that his friends had gotten away and could at this very moment be on their way to free him. He turned his head slightly so that he could hear the conversation more clearly.

"What do you mean you did not find them!?" Amyot bellowed, his face red with rage.

"We split up, but when it came time to meet back up, Michel and Maurice did not show. We…"

"You split up? Where in my instructions did I mention that you were to split up?" Amyot seethed.

"Sir, I'm sorry…I felt it best for us to split up so we could cover more ground. We set a time and place to meet back up, but…"

"But two of your men are now missing and I do not have the musketeers…or the letter!"

"Uh…only one is missing, sir."

"Only one you say? And how is it that two men did not show, but only one is missing?"

"Because…uh…when we went in search of Michel and Maurice, we only found Maurice…sir."

"I see…and what did Maurice have to say, pray tell."

"Maurice is…um, well…he's dead, sir. Sword wound through his lung, sir," the shaking man answered.

"Dead…and no Michel…or musketeers," Amyot stated, his voice frighteningly calm.

"No sir. We saw where there was a struggle and we found Maurice's horse, but not Michel's," the man answered.

"So…either he is a coward and ran away, or he and Maurice were bested by the musketeers and now they have Michel…someone who could lead them to us with the right kind of persuasion."

"Yes, sir. I am sorry I failed, sir," the man said, his head bowed in shame. The man cried out when Amyot grabbed him by his jacket front and shook him furiously.

"You more than failed me! You failed our entire cause! I told you to bring me the musketeers and all you bring me is your incompetence!" Amyot shouted before shoving the man away.

"I'm sorry, sir," the man said softly, his voice shaking.

Amyot physically shook himself then took several deep breaths. "You have one chance to save yourself, Bertrand. Take six men…ride as hard as you can toward Orleans and find those musketeers! That letter cannot reach its destination!"

"Yes, sir. I won't fail you again…I promise," Bertrand said.

"If you do…it will be the last thing you ever do,"Amyot hissed.

Bertrand nodded before he rushed from the room. Amyot turned and took in the shivering form of his prisoner, a look of pure hatred on his face. He strolled across the room and once again stood behind the Gascon. "You hope they come to rescue you, don't you, pup?" he asked as he leaned over to speak into d'Artagnan's ear.

"They will come," d'Artagnan answered.

Amyot chuckled at that and patted the young man's bare back. "Oh, poor, poor boy. Can't you see it? They have had plenty of time for a rescue, but where are they?" he asked. "To them you are _insignifiant,…_ otherwise, they would have tried to save you already. You are blind if you don't see that."

"They are my friends…they will come," d'Artagnan whispered, his words confident, but in his heart, there was doubt, though he would never show it to this madman.

"Well, it makes no difference either way. My men will find them and bring them here. I will punish those who disappointed me and I will have that letter," Amyot said.

d'Artagnan let out a laugh and turned his head so he could see his captor. "You're delusional if you think your men can best those three," he said.

"Three against seven? I think I like those odds, pup."

d'Artagnan snorted as he turned away. "You nor your men have no idea who you're up against. They'll barely break a sweat against your seven."

"Maybe…maybe not, but no matter what the outcome, there is one thing that is for certain," Amyot said.

"What is that?"

"You will not make it out of this alive. Even if they come to your rescue, there will be nothing left of you to save," Amyot answered. "But don't worry, you'll be around for a while yet…I may not get you to talk, but I can sure have fun trying now can't I? Francois, bring me my whip."

D'Artagnan swallowed thickly as the man stepped back, the sound of a whip cracking in the air turning the young man's blood cold. His scream filled the room with the first strike.

 _**clebard: dog_

 _**insignifiant: of no value or interest (insignificant)_

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

They rode at a slower pace, had been for the past few miles. They had stopped for a quick rest, watered the horses and eaten a quick meal before departing for Orleans once again. The horses were nearly spent, but rather than stay in one spot for very long, they chose to continue on, keeping their pace slower until the animals were rested. The hour of their meeting with Renault was fast approaching and all three were more than a little anxious to deliver the letter so they could finally do what they had wanted to do all along…find their youngest member and make those who had taken him pay. By Athos' calculations, they would be in Orleans in just under two hours, leaving them plenty of time to find the _Ste Croix Cathedral_ and make their delivery. It was an hour after they had gotten back on the road again that Porthos heard something and turned around in his saddle. He sucked in a breath and let out a short whistle, drawing his brother's attention.

"We 'ave company," he said, tipping his head toward the riders that were fast approaching.

Athos turned and squinted into the distance. "They come for the letter," he said as he looked at each of his friends.

"How can we be sure it's Amyot?" Aramis asked.

"Coming at that speed, it has to be. Porthos, do you think you would recognize any of the men who you saw?," Athos answered. When Porthos nodded, he turned forward again and eyed the road ahead. "Ride fast to that bend up ahead…we'll take cover and take as many out as we can when they come around," he commanded.

"Athos…are you sure?" Porthos queried.

"We can't outrun them…the horses are too tired. Our best chance is surprise," Athos said. "When they come around the bend, Porthos will see if he recognizes anyone. If he does he'll give a signal and we'll take out the first three with our pistols. We'll finish the rest off as quickly as we can. Be careful though, they may have their own weapons at the ready."

"Sounds like our best bet," Aramis said. "Come, let's ride!"

The three musketeers and their captive rode hard and fast until they were around the bend in the road. They quickly led the horses off the road and tied them in the trees, leaving their bound prisoner tied to his horse. They took positions at varying spots along the road with the trees for cover and took aim. Finally, the men they had spotted came around the bend and Porthos immediately recognized at least two of the men. He nodded toward his brothers and each took aim and shot. Three men dropped from their horses and lay still on the ground. Surprised at the sudden attack and loss of three of their numbers, the other four were momentarily lost in the chaos of startled horses, two of which were thrown from their horses as the beasts panicked and ran into each other. The three musketeers used the other's confusion to their advantage and attacked, swords drawn. It took less than five minutes to bring the other four down, the men ill prepared for the talent of the musketeers. As the three converged once the last man lay dead, they did a quick head to toe of each other, relieved at seeing only minor cuts bruises. They took the next twenty minutes to drag the bodies of their would be attackers into the trees and then rest. The horses of the men had scattered so they left them to their own devices. All in all, the squirmish had cost them only a half hour, still leaving them time to make their rendezvous point.

It was just under two hours when the musketeers entered the city of Orleans. They had found a secluded spot just outside of town that they used to secure their prisoner while they made their delivery, not wanting the man to see who their contact was, just in case their impending rescue attempt went sideways. They reached the _Ste Croix Cathedral_ just after noon and were almost immediately hastened over to a man standing under a cherry tree on the west side of the church. They dismounted and walked up to the small, aging man.

"Are you Pierre Ribault?" Athos asked as he stood before the man.

The man nodded as he looked around to see if anyone was watching. "You are late," he said in a low, scratchy voice.

"We had a few setbacks, but we are here now," Athos responded. He pulled the letter from the secret pocket inside of his jacket and handed it to the man. Ribault opened the letter, his eyes sweeping over the parchment before he sealed it again.

Ribault looked at the men, noting the bruising and small amounts of blood that stained their clothing. "I pray that none of you were hurt too badly in bringing this letter to me," he said.

"Us? No…we are fine. Our brother however was taken yesterday by the leader of a band of men, seven of which attacked us two hours out of Orleans," Athos replied.

"Oh dear…your brother…is he…"

"He is strong…we ride now to find him," Aramis interrupted.

"I hope that you find him in good health," Ribault said, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"As do we," Athos said. "And now, Monsieur Ribault, we must go."

"Please, surely you can take rest before you leave. You look to be dead on your feet. I have arranged for rooms for you at the inn just as you come into the city," Ribault said.

Athos gave a slight bow and then shook his head. "We must not waste time for our brother's life is in great peril. Thank you for the offer, but we must take our leave now. I do hope that this letter is worth the pain our brother is most definitely suffering," he said, a note of anger at the end.

Ribault dipped his head in acknowledgement and smiled sadly at the three musketeers. "I am so sorry that your brother is suffering even as we speak. Please believe me when I say, the King and all of his loyal subjects will be safer now with the delivery of this letter. Though I cannot speak of its contents, I can tell you that you are all truly heroes for the sacrifices you have made in getting it here," he said softly. "I thank you…the King thanks you…and France thanks you."

The three men exchanged glances then bowed their heads before the man. "Will you be safe enough to carry the letter to its final destination?" Aramis asked.

"I will. Yours was the dangerous path," Ribault replied. "I will pray for the safe return of your brother and for your continued safety as you make your way back to Paris."

"Thank you," Athos said.

"One thing before you go," Porthos said as the old man began to turn away. When Ribault turned back to face him, he continued. "The man who took our friend knew about the letter."

"Ah, yes…well, it has been suspected that there is a spy within the court, but the fact that your man was taken because of the letter confirms that. Once your captain knows of this, he can alert the Cardinal so that the spy can be dealt with," Ribault replied.

"So, they knew who the spy was?" Aramis asked.

Ribault shook his head as he shifted his gaze to the medic. "No, not for sure. The Cardinal had his suspicions. He was looking for a chance to draw the suspected traitor out and now it seems as he has accomplished that goal."

Athos tilted his head as he took in what Ribault had said. "Was this letter just a means of drawing out the spy?" he asked.

Ribault paled slightly as he realized his mistake. "It was very important that you get this letter to me."

"Is there even anything in the letter or is it just a blank piece of parchment?" Aramis queried as he took a step forward.

"Gentlemen, you must understand. The Cardinal had to draw the spy out. The safety of France depended on it," Ribault explained.

"And how was a useless piece of parchment going to do that?" Aramis asked.

"If the Cardinal was correct, the spy would know of the letter and would get word to those he worked for. If…"

"If we were attacked for the letter, then the Cardinal would have his answer about the spy's identity," Athos said, his voice laced with anger.

"So, what yer sayin' is we were guinea pigs? d'Artagnan is being tortured…could already be dead for all we know, and for what!?" Porthos spat, his body shaking with rage.

"I truly am sorry that it had to be this way," Ribault said. "Secrets were getting out and the court had to know. This was the only way the Cardinal could think of to draw out the spy."

"I'm sure he asked for us specifically to be sent," Porthos hissed.

Ribault let out a shaky breath, his eyes dropping as he was no longer able to look the men in the eyes. "I hope that you get your friend back safely. I will pray that it is so," Ribault said before he turned away.

The three musketeers watched as Ribault walked to a waiting carriage and climbed inside, the carriage pulling away a moment later. Once it was out of sight they mounted their horses and headed back the same way they had come.

"Do you think Treville knew that the letter was blank?" Porthos asked as they worked their way through the streets of Orleans to the exit to the city.

Athos glanced at his friend and shook his head. "I don't know, but I will find out when we return to Paris," he said. He turned his gaze to the street ahead and silently prayed that it wasn't so. If it was, then Treville had betrayed them all and his insistence that d'Artagnan go along would be made that much worse for what had befallen the Gascon.

They left Orleans in silence, the news that they had received weighing heavily on their minds, and went straight to where they had left their prisoner. The man looked pathetic tied to the tree when they arrived. His head hung forward and he was obviously sleeping. Porthos dismounted his horse and walked up to the man, kicking his leg to rouse him. The man sputtered awake and glared up at the large musketeer.

"Time to wake up and lead us to where our brother 'as been taken," Porthos said, his hands on his hips.

The man grumbled something around the gag over his mouth, so Porthos knelt down and pulled the gag away. The man worked his mouth open and shut a few times before glaring back up at the man.

"You can kiss my lily white ass if you think I'm leadin' you anywhere, musketeer scum!" he spat.

Porthos had the man around the throat with one hand before anyone knew what was happening. The man gasped as his air was nearly completely cut off, his eyes bulging as he stared into the enraged face of the musketeer. "You will lead us exactly to where our comrade is, or I will rip you limb from limb with my bare hands!" he seethed, his fingers digging into the tender flesh of the man's neck and drawing blood where his fingernails cut through the skin. "Do you understand?"

The man nodded his head as best he could, his eyes filled with terror as Porthos continued to squeeze. A light touch to his shoulder had the large man turning his head and meeting the amused face of Aramis.

"My dear Porthos…if he is to lead us to d'Artagnan, he must be breathing. Please release him now so we can be on our way," Aramis said, his lips quirking at the corners.

"Fine!" Porthos hissed as he released the man's throat, leaving the man to cough and sputter while trying to draw in big gulps of air.

"Gentlemen, time is wasting. Get the man on his horse so we can be on our way," Athos called from where he still sat upon his horse.

Porthos and Aramis nodded then proceeded to untie the man from the tree and lift him onto his horse. His hands were retied to the saddle and soon the party was on its way back toward the spot where their youngest had been taken. They traveled in silence, each lost in his own thoughts, until the light of day began to give way to dusk, at which time Aramis called out for them to stop.

"Athos, we must stop and rest the horses, and ourselves as well," Aramis said as he looked into his brother's icy blue eyes. He knew that Athos would fight him on it as the man had been quietly brooding since they got back onto the road, but he was prepared for what was to come.

"Are you out of your mind? We have to get d'Artagnan away from that madman!" Athos spat, his eyes narrowing as he glared at his friend.

"I know how you feel, Athos…I feel it as well. I'm sure Porthos can attest to the same feelings, but the horses need rest, water and food…as do all of us. We…"

"We can't just leave him there while we eat and sleep!"

Porthos snorted in derision as he glared at his leader. "Coming from the man who insisted that we leave d'Artagnan behind in the first place!" he hissed angrily.

"Porthos," Aramis said, sensing the ensuing fight and trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand. "This is not the time, nor place for this."

"'e 'as a lot of nerve, Aramis!" Porthos shouted.

"The mission had to be completed...I had no choice," Athos said, mostly to himself.

Porthos took a deep breath and slowly let it out. "You did 'ave a choice, Athos…and damn it, I know you made the right one, but it still pisses me off," he said with resignation.

"I know," Athos said as he dropped his eyes to stare at his hands.

Aramis looked from one man to the other. He had been the silent one for the most part, but it didn't mean that he felt the absence of their youngest any less than the others. He had grown quite fond of the boy and the thought of what he had to be going through brought a chill to the marksman's bones. He knew that when they got their Gascon back, because they would be getting him back, he would be the one responsible for his medical care and he hoped and prayed that his skills would be enough. He shook his head to clear his thoughts then addressed his fellow musketeers.

"We should rest here for the night. The closer we travel to where d'Artagnan was taken, the better chance of us running into trouble and none of us are in any condition to be having any more sword fights. I hear running water through the trees so we can water the horses and it looks like there is plenty of grass for them to eat. We can leave well before dawn if we camp now and we can be at the manor early in the morning."

Athos and Porthos nodded their agreement then began to lead their horses off the road. The sound of hooves on hard dirt had the three turning in surprise, their weapons already drawn as the shapes of four men on horseback appeared over the slight rise in the road.

 **Hmmm...I wonder if Treville knew. We will find out! I hope you enjoyed and will let me know such! Thanks for reading :)**

 **Cindy**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm back! So, I pounded this chapter out today...can't believe I finished it. I will be on vacation next week so I won't get a chance to write until I'm back at work. I didn't want to leave that long between chapters so I worked most of the day on this...in between getting work done of course! Thank you all once again for the kind reviews. They are much appreciated. And for everyone reading, favoriting (is that a word?), and following...THANK YOU! I'm not going to bore you with more rambling, so let's get back to the story :)**

Chapter 6 – Friends, or Enemies?

 _The sound of hooves on hard dirt had the three turning in surprise, their weapons already drawn as the shapes of four men on horseback appeared over the slight rise in the road._

Athos, Porthos and Aramis squinted through the growing darkness as the four men approached, their hearts pounding in their chests. They didn't waver as the men got nearer.

"Athos? Is that you?" one of the men called.

Athos took a step forward, and gazed up into the shadowed face. The large hat atop the man's head made it hard to see his features, but the voice was quite familiar. "Etienne?" Athos called back with a hint of confusion in his voice.

The man gave a quick chuckle then slid from his saddle. "Athos! Fancy meeting you here…and Porthos, Aramis!"

The three musketeers lowered their weapons as the other men dismounted their horses. "What are you doing here, Etienne?" Athos asked as he fellow inseparables stepped up on either side of him.

Etienne looked back at his three travel companions before meeting Atos' gaze once again. "We are returning from a two week training stay at the garrison in Blois. What are you three doing here…and, who is the poor fellow tied to the horse?"

Athos glanced back at their prisoner before answering. "We were sent by Treville with a supposedly very important letter to deliver to Orleans. The prisoner is going to lead us to where d'Artagnan has been taken," he said, to which Porthos uttered a barely audible curse beside him.

"d'Artagnan? Why would a recruit be sent with you to deliver an important letter?" Etienne asked.

"Good question…one that we intend to find out the answer to once we have retrieved the boy and returned to Paris," Athos answered.

One of the other men stepped forward whom Athos recognized as Jacques once he removed his hat. "What do you mean by supposedly important letter?" he asked.

Porthos let out another expletive then turned and stomped back to his horse. Aramis watched him go then turned to the man. "What my large friend is trying to say is that the letter turned out to be a decoy and we were none the wiser to it," he explained.

At the questioning looks on the other musketeer's faces, Athos further explained. "There was a suspected spy in the court so Richelieu issued a letter to be delivered in order to hopefully draw the spy out. If the messengers sent with the letter were attacked, then the spy would show his hand and be caught."

Etienne spat on the ground with disgust and looked at his comrade. "And you were attacked so the Cardinal was right," he said.

"Yeah, and I'm sure we'll find out that Richelieu asked for us personally," Aramis supplied.

"But how was d'Artagnan taken and not you three?" Jacques asked.

Athos sighed deeply and dropped his eyes. "Last evening I sent d'Artagnan in search of fire wood while we set up camp. I had Porthos follow him at a distance…d'Artagnan was ambushed and taken. There were too many men for Porthos to attempt a rescue so he came and found us," he replied.

Porthos stomped back up to the group, his eyes alight with anger. "If we'd of known the cursed letter was a decoy, we woulda went in rescue of the boy instead of continuing on to Orleans!" he spat.

Etienne gazed at the large man with sympathy. "Porthos, you did the right thing under the circumstances. The mission must come first…you know that. Do not let yourself be torn apart by guilt," he said.

Porthos turned on the man, hands fisted at his sides, face beet red. "They shoulda told us! He could be dead…or worse…for all we know, and we just left him behind! And for what!?" he shouted.

"Porthos…" Aramis began, only to be cut off when his friend turned on him.

"No, Aramis! We let him down! I let him down! That whelp ain't gonna give them nothin', no matter what kind of torture they put 'im through! What kind of men would leave their brother to that fate?" he cried, all of the fight leaving him as his shoulders slumped and he turned away.

Athos stepped up to his friend and placed his hand upon his shoulder. "The fault lies with me, Porthos. I am the one who made the decision to deliver the letter, not you. You were set to go after him alone, but I would not allow it. Don't beat yourself up about this, my friend," he comforted.

Porthos lifted his saddened eyes and met the gaze of his leader. "I shoulda fought you harder. I…I can't even think about what we're gonna find, Athos," he whispered brokenly.

"He's alive, brother…I can feel it," Aramis said as he stepped up to his friends, his hand coming to rest on Porthos' other shoulder. Porthos looked at his friend and nodded. Aramis had a way of knowing such things and so if he said he felt that d'Artagnan was alive, then Porthos believed it.

Athos drew away from his friends and headed for his horse. "We must make camp and get some rest…we have a Gascon to find in the morning," he said. Porthos and Aramis both nodded and walked slowly to their horses.

"We will join you in the search," Etienne called as he and his men led their horses off the road.

Athos looked and the man and gave a grateful smile. "Thank you," he said.

Soon, camp was made, the prisoner was secured to the base of a tree and a small meal prepared from the men's rations. The campfire was blazing as the men prepared to turn in for the night, Jacques taking first watch as the three inseparables were dead on their feet. While Porthos and Aramis fell asleep almost immediately, the same couldn't be said for Athos. The decision to leave d'Artagnan and continue on to Orleans had torn him up inside. Every fiber of his being had screamed at him to go after the young man, but duty and loyalty to the king had forced him to make a decision that he would forever regret, especially now that he knew the truth about their mission. His thoughts turned to Treville and he had to physically rein in his anger. Did the captain know what their mission truly was about and if so, why didn't he warn them? They would have still taken on the mission, but having the knowledge of what the true mission was would have led to different decisions on his part. The very fact that they were attacked would have been proof enough of the spy's identity and they could have saved precious time by going after the men who took d'Artagnan right away, rather than continue on to Orleans. Disgusted with himself and the entire debacle, Athos turned on his side and forced himself to empty his mind. He would need to be in top shape in the morning. The young man who, despite all odds, had clawed his way into Athos' heart needed him and he swore that he would not betray him again.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

d'Artagnan couldn't scream anymore. His voice had left him ten lashes ago, along with what little energy he'd had remaining. He had collapsed back on heels as overwhelming weakness overtook him, the manacles on his wrists the only things keeping him from tumbling over backward onto the cold, dirty floor. Blood dripped from his wrists where the metal shredded delicate skin, but he lacked any strength to pull himself back up to relieve the pressure. His chin rested on the rim of the barrel, his head tilted back as his body sank deeper toward the platform he knelt upon. One lash missed its mark as it hit high on his back, the end of the whip wrapping around his throat and leaving him gasping for air as it was violently tugged away. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the whipping ceased. d'Artagnan let his head fall back as he closed his eyes, the young man praying for the darkness to take him from this hell. He jumped when a hand wrapped around his throat and a smug, evil voice whispered in his hear.

"Tell me the contents of the letter. If you do, I promise that I will not hurt your friends when they are brought to me and I will end your suffering quickly and almost painlessly."

D'Artagnan ignored the voice and allowed himself to drift away. He barely felt it when Amyot pulled away and the first fist met flesh. He smiled weakly as the darkness finally pulled him under.

When he next awoke, it was to a voice whispering desperately into his ear. He groaned, thinking the voice was that of his tormentor, but when a gentle hand brushed the hair from his sweat soaked face, he then thought that at last the inseparables had come to rescue him. He turned his head and slowly opened his eyes, only to meet the eyes of the man who had given him water so long ago. "Wha…" he croaked, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he attempted to focus.

"Shh, I only have a moment," the man said before he moved up to one of the shackles secured around d'Artagnan's wrist. d'Artagnan felt detached as he watched the man try to open the cuff, but when the man slipped and jostled the Gascon, he let out a cry as the agony from his many injuries brought him more awake and aware. He couldn't hold back the tears of pain that escaped to roll lazily down his cheeks. "I'm sorry," the man said, his eyes conveying the truth of his words. "I have to get you out of here," he added hastily.

"W-Why…"

"Amyot…he's losing patience. He's going to kill you soon," the man replied.

The Gascon nodded, fully aware of his predicament. "Why'r you helping me?" he asked weakly.

The man stopped his work on the manacle and turned to the younger man. "Because you don't deserve this. Because Amyot has gone mad. When I first joined him, I truly believed in his cause, but now…now I don't even know if he has a cause anymore or if he's just plain evil," he replied before returning to his task.

A few moments later, the sound of footsteps from outside the room reached the two men's ears. The older man quickened his efforts, only to be stopped by the ruined voice of his prisoner. "You must stop," d'Artagnan said. "Please."

The man shook his head. "I cannot…this has gone far enough. He is going to kill you," he said in reply.

"He will kill you if he finds you tryin' to free me," d'Artagnan breathed out. "I cannot die with your death on my conscience," he added, his dull, dark eyes pleading with the man listen.

"But you'll die…"

"'m pretty sure 'm dead already," d'Artagnan whispered.

Reluctantly, the man stood. He nodded down at the chained Gascon and smiled sadly, thinking to himself in wonder at how strong and brave he was for one so young. He quickly moved to stand beside the door, just before Amyot and another man stepped into the room. Amyot seemed surprised to see anyone else in the room when he saw the man standing next to the door.

"What are you doing in here?" Amyot asked suspiciously, his eyes moving to rest on his prisoner.

"I thought that I should guard the prisoner, sir," the man responded.

Amyot gave out a short laugh as he moved further into the room. "He's not going anywhere," he said with a smirk. "He's barely even alive," he added as he strolled across the room and stood over the broken young man. His eyes roamed over his handiwork, a sickening smile curling his lips. He leaned over and with cold fingers brushed the Gascon's cheek, his smile widening when the young man opened his eyes and glared at him. "You should have told me what I wished to hear. I would have ended your suffering, but now I think I'll let you languish here," he whispered. "My men have not returned with your friends yet, but there is still time. While I would love to stay and continue with my interrogation, there are other things more important at this time. I must prepare a room for when the musketeers arrive, but fear not, I will return." Amyot straightened then turned away from the chained man. He walked to the door, turned and gave one last glance in the Gascon's direction. "Come, and lock the door. There is no need to guard him now," he commanded, before he swiftly left the room, followed closely by the man who had entered with him. d'Artagnan's would be rescuer looked longingly at the young man, but with a shout from Amyot, he left the room and pulled the door closed behind him, locking the door before following after his boss.

"I'll be back," the man whispered, hoping that when he did return, the young man who had endured so much and had remained strong and given up nothing would still be alive to rescue.

d'Artagnan flinched as the door was closed and locked. His chance for rescue was gone. His body ached mercilessly from the regular beatings he'd been receiving and he was sure there were broken ribs that could at any time during the next beating puncture a lung. He was positive that his shoulder had come out of its socket, and a bit scared since the overwhelming pain had turned to a frightening feeling of numbness running from his shoulder to his fingertips. His stomach was hollow from two days with no food, his mouth dry and lips cracked from no water, but it was his heart that hurt with the most ferocity. He had thought that the musketeers left no man behind, but here he was, alone with his torturers while his comrades were who knows where. True, he wasn't one of the Inseparables, but he was a musketeer recruit and he thought that should be enough to warrant a rescue. He'd heard the mantra "All for one, and one for all" and assumed it meant recruits as well as commissioned musketeers. Well, he was holding up his end. Forget that he didn't know the whereabouts of the damned letter…he was not made privy to any information…the fact that he had not said a single word in response to any of his captors questions was enough, he believed, and even if he did know where the letter was, his captors would be sorely disappointed because he'd rather die than to dishonor his friends. So yes, he had the one for all part down and he thought it was high time the all for one part came into play. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on after all. No food, no water, no real sleep, because he didn't count unconsciousness as sleep…and regular beatings that left him reeling and in agony, were draining his body, and his spirit, so much so that he had caught himself at times wishing that he would not wake up once his broken body succumbed to unconsciousness once again.

d'Artagnan must have black out again because he was startled awake by something, not even realizing that he had fallen unconscious. He weakly lifted his head and listened for any sound. He heard nothing and attempted to push himself up onto his knees from where he'd collapsed upon himself earlier. He cried out as the movement made his injuries flare, the young man realizing he lacked the strength to even get to his knees. He dropped his head again and took in as deep of a breath as his chest would allow. His dislocated shoulder ached…no, not dislocated, d'Artagnan thought…stabbed. He'd been stabbed and then the wound burned shut. He wondered absently at his error, but shook himself out of his thoughts as he thought, not for the first time, why his friends had not come for him. He should have given up hope a long time ago, but it just wasn't in him to do so.

It was his stubbornness, and a small shred of hope for rescue that lingered even when his mind had him convinced he meant nothing to the musketeers, that kept him hanging on. He would prove to them, all of them, that he was worthy and that he deserved a place in the regiment. It was all he had left, this desire to be a musketeer, and he would not allow these men, these criminals, to take that away from him. He sucked in a shaky, painful breath and lifted his head when he heard the sounds of his tormenters approaching. He would meet their eyes and he would smile. He would welcome their questions and their fists, and whatever else they chose to use on him, because in the end, it would make him stronger. It would make the others see him as an equal, not a burden, someone they could trust and count on when needed, and maybe, just maybe, one day, if he survived his ordeal, they would call him brother.

With that thought, he steeled himself for what was to come when he heard the sound of the door being unlocked. He would survive and he would see the inseparables again.

 **That's it for now. I may be able to get started on the next chapter while I'm off next week, but no promises. I'm not sure if you noticed, but I pulled in stuff from the prologue to kind of tie that in with where our Gascon is now. Coming full circle I guess. Anywho, thanks for reading! Enjoy the weekend! I'll get more posted just as soon as I can.**

 **Cindy**


	7. Chapter 7 - Reunited

**So, I know it's been way longer than it should have taken to get this chapter up. I was on vacation last week and things just kind of got crazy so I had no time to work on it then. I got back to work this week, where I usually do my writing on breaks and when I have some free time, but it took me most of the week to catch up on work that built up when I was off. I did find time to work on this chapter throughout the week and finally was able to spend the morning finishing it! I really hope you find that it was worth the wait :)**

 **Thank you once again to everyone for your kind words for the last chapter, and to all who have not given up on this story and are still reading! I appreciate it more than you could ever imagine!**

 **Now, on with the story!**

 ******UPDATE******

 **I'm not sure quite what happened, but when I went in to read this chapter once I had posted it I saw that a section had disappeared. I have remedied that so if you have already read it, you may want to go and re-read it as it may make a bit more sense :)**

 **Chapter 7 – Reunited**

The musketeers were awake and ready to move before dawn had even had the chance to break over the horizon. It had been a fitful night of sleep for the Inseparables, but they had at least gotten enough sleep to shake off the fuzziness that had begun to creep over them the night before. The anticipation of finally seeing their Gascon fueled their energy, along with a quick breakfast of cheese, cured meat and dry bread. With Athos in the lead, the prisoner and his horse at his side, the party of seven musketeers began their trek to free d'Artagnan. While the three Inseparables were the closest to the young recruit, it didn't mean that the other four musketeers did not feel the burden of what they may find. Over the course of the time the Gascon had been at the garrison, most of the musketeers stationed there had grown fond of the young man. There were some that did not agree with the decision to make a poor farm boy a recruit, but none of those were among the four who rode with the Inseparables this day. Etienne especially had taken a liking to the boy. Watching him train every day, never giving up and improving with each moment had truly impressed the older musketeer. He would make sure that on this day the three musketeers who were closest to the young recruit would get their boy back, even if it was the last thing he did on this earth.

It was just under two hours when they arrived at the spot that d'Artagnan had been taken. Porthos whistled for them to stop then moved up beside their prisoner. "Lead us to where the lad was taken," he commanded as he glared at the huddled form of the man.

The man looked up at the large musketeer and gave him a smug grin. "You'll never get 'im out alive. There's too many of Amyot's men," he said, cackling as Porthos sneered at his response.

"How many men?" Athos inquired.

The man turned his head toward Athos. "More then enough to take you out," he hissed.

Athos' hand shot out, grabbing the man around the throat, his eyes ice cold as he glared at the startled prisoner. "I asked how many," he seethed through gritted teeth.

"Th-there were twenty five, besides Amyot," the man answered once Athos had released his throat. "The boy killed three when we took him. You killed Maurice," he added with a glare.

Porthos glanced over at Athos and cocked his head. "Don't forget the seven who tried to attack us," he said with a grin.

The man turned and narrowed his eyes at the large musketeer, but said nothing. "So," Athos started, "Ten dead and one captured…that would leave fourteen, plus Amyot," he continued.

"Two each," Aramis stated as he came even with his friends. "Doesn't quite seem fair now, does it?"

The prisoner grinned as he turned toward the marksman, but his smile soon faded when Aramis returned his grin. "They don't stand a chance. Twenty four men in total will lie dead, two will be taken to Paris for execution and for what? A letter?" he remarked as he shook his head.

"You think you'll be able to best fourteen men?" the man asked incredulously.

"No, I don't think that at all," Aramis answered. "I know we will." Aramis dipped his head toward Athos before returning to his spot behind the elder musketeer.

Athos nodded in return then kicked his horse into action. "Take us to Amyot," he commanded. The band of brothers and their prisoner made their way through the forest, finding a well worn path within a few minutes that the man said would lead them to the manor. The mood was somber, though each man felt the surge of unspent energy welling within them. Soon they hoped to be reunited with their lost brother and the man responsible for his kidnapping would be on his way to stand before the King, his co-conspirator from the palace at this side. The Inseparables were silent for the entirety of their trek, but the three did not need words to know what the others were thinking…save the Gascon by any means necessary.

It was an hour later when the manor came into view. It was a large building, and must have been quite the sight to see in its day, but now it was plain to see that the mansion hadn't been lived in for quite some time, for it was quite rundown in sections and most of the windows had been boarded up. The musketeers dismounted and tied their horses where they would be out of view of anyone who might look in their direction. Porthos pulled their prisoner from his horse and shoved him ahead of himself. The musketeers discussed their strategy amongst themselves and it was decided that Etienne and his men would enter through the main door and engage any men that they came across, while Athos and the others would wait and then follow after them a few minutes later. The inseparables watched as the other four musketeers made their way across the clearing and up the stairs of the manor. Their heartbeats quickened when the four men disappeared inside and there was the immediate sound of raised voices from inside. After a few minutes they prepared themselves for their turn to enter. Porthos grabbed their prisoner by the back of his collar and pushed him toward the manor.

"Don't make a sound, because if you do I'll slit your throat before you even know what's 'appenin'," he hissed into the man's ear.

The man nodded and the four hurried across the clearing and soon they too disappeared inside. Once inside they looked around the gloomy interior. Five bodies lay scattered about the entryway, thankfully none of which wore the blue cloak of the musketeers.

"Five down, nine to go," Aramis whispered.

Porthos grinned then leaned in toward his prisoner's ear. "Which way?" he inquired.

The man pointed toward a door off to the right of the entryway. "This way," he said, grunting as he was pushed forward by the large musketeer. Before they got too far, a voice cried out from above.

"Michel!" a man descending the staircase called. "You traitorous scum! You bring the musketeers to our doorstep?" The four men stopped and turned toward the voice. The man raised his arm, a pistol held in his hand and aimed toward the group. Before Aramis could even pull his own weapon the sound of a gunshot echoed through the cavernous entryway. Aramis wasted no time to see who, if anyone, had been shot. He prepared his pistol, took aim, and fired. He watched as the man dropped his weapon and clutched at his stomach before tumbling forward down the stairs. It was clear to see that he was dead as he hit the bottom by the unnatural angle of his neck. Aramis grinned and whispered, "Eight to go," before he turned to find their prisoner on the floor, blood blooming from his chest, his eyes wide and sightless. Athos knelt beside him, while Porthos stood watch over him. After a few moments, Athos stood, a long litany of curses rolling off his tongue. He met his brother's eyes and shook his head.

"He was our way to d'Artagnan," Athos softly said, regret in his blue eyes.

"We'll find him, Athos," Aramis said as he grasped the older man's arm. "It'll just take more time, that's all."

"d'Artagnan may not have more time."

Porthos patted his leader's back and sighed. "Like we all said before, he's tough…he'll be able to hold out a little while longer until we find him," he said. "Come, let's find our brother and take him from this 'orrible place," he added as he turned and began to walk toward the back of the house.

Athos and Aramis rushed to follow after the larger man. They opened every doorway they found, but came up empty handed every time. They were just coming to what they assumed to be the kitchens when they suddenly found themselves face to face with four more of Amyot's men. The four grinned when they saw they outnumbered their adversaries, but their grins soon faded when one of them suddenly fell backward, a dagger protruding from his throat, the man choking on his own blood. The three men turned and glared at the musketeers.

Aramis shrugged his shoulders then pointed at the man on the floor. "Um, I'm kind of going to need that dagger back," he said with a cheeky grin. The men cried out in unison and charged the three musketeers.

Athos rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation at his friends comment, though his lip did slightly curl at the edge. He met his foe head on, not willing to take the time to enjoy the dance, but merely displaying his far superior swordsmanship by side stepping the charging man, gracefully swinging his body around and slicing the man across his back. The man cried out in rage and pain and turned, only to be impaled upon Athos' sword. His eyes widened in shock as Athos' icy eyes stared him down as he slowly pulled his blade from the man's gut. Once the support of the blade was taken away, the man stumbled back and crashed into a table that stood against the wall. He fell to the floor, his hands pressed to his stomach, blood bubbling over his lips. Athos paid him no more interest and turned to see how his brothers were faring, just in time to see Porthos slam his opponent face first into the wall. The man dropped bonelessly to the floor and did not move. Porthos met Athos' eyes and grinned. They both turned at the sound of a sharp cry, to find Aramis' opponent clutching at his throat. Blood spilled through his fingers as he stared wide eyed at the marksman. He dropped to his knees then fell forward into the ever spreading pool of his own blood. Aramis turned to his friends then surveyed the scene around him.

"So, that's three for me and what…one for each of you?" he quipped, one eyebrow arching as he met his friend's gazes. "You two are getting slow in your old age," he added as he knelt down beside the first man to fall and pulled his dagger free from his throat.

Before either of the two could respond, a man burst through the doors at the end of the hall and stopped as he saw the three of them. His eyes flitted to the four dead men on the floor before finally returning to stare at the musketeers. When the three began to move forward, the man lifted his hands out before him, showing that he had no weapon.

"Wait!" the man cried, but the three musketeers continued to move toward him.

Porthos reached him first and the man cowered as the large musketeer loomed over him. Athos stepped up beside Porthos, his sword at the ready, while Aramis moved behind the man.

"Please," the man said. "You must follow me!"

"And why would we want to do that?" Athos drawled, seemingly unaffected by the scene around him.

"Because he's going to kill him! You have to come…now!" the man cried.

"Who's going to kill who?" Porthos queried.

"Amyot! He's going to kill d'Artagnan!" the man answered. "I tried to free him, but Amyot came!"

"d'Artagnan is alive?" Aramis asked hopefully.

The man turned to look at the medic and nodded. "He was when I left him. Amyot will be there by now…we have to go!"

The three men glanced at each other then turned to the man. "Lead the way!" Athos commanded.

"This way!" the man called as he turned and headed back through the doors that he'd just come through. The three musketeers followed the man through the kitchen then another door at the back of the room that led to a flight of stairs leading down into darkness. Some torches lit the way, but the passage was still gloomy as the musketeers ran after the man in the lead. They hadn't gone far when they heard a muffled scream carry down the corridor and the Inseparables didn't need to be told that they must hurry in order to save their Gascon. They picked up speed, all four men now running as if their lives depended on it. The man in the lead turned his head and pointed ahead of himself. "That door!" he called and moved to the side to allow the three musketeers to run past him and through the door, only to see them stop and stare ahead of themselves in shock.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

 **Earlier**

d'Artagnan waited for what new pain would come when he heard the door to his prison being pushed open. He flinched when he felt a hand on his arm and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of what was to come. When no pain came, he opened his eyes, only to see the man who had helped him before beginning to work on the manacles around his wrist again. The man glanced around and found the Gascon's eyes on him.

"We're under attack!" the man breathed out. "I can free you while Amyot's attention is elsewhere!"

"Under attack by whom?" the Gascon asked weakly.

"I do not know for certain, but I believe it is musketeers," the man answered before going back to work freeing the young man. He didn't miss the look of hope that crossed the young man's features and he smiled sadly, praying that the prisoner would soon be in the protective hands of those who cared for him.

"What is your name?" d'Artagnan queried, hissing when he was jostled by the man's work.

"My name is Jean," the man replied as he continued to work at the manacle. "I apologize that this causes you more pain, but I don't have the key so I have to try to force it open," he added.

d'Artagnan smiled softly as he watched his would be savior. "My name is d'Artagnan," the Gascon said as he rested his head against the barrel.

The man dipped his head in acknowledgement as he continued to work. "It is an honor to know the name of the bravest man I've ever met," Jean said.

d'Artagnan snorted at that, fully aware that it was far from the truth. "I would say that you are far more brave than I, Jean. You are risking your life to save a dead man," he whispered, his strength once more beginning to flounder.

Jean glanced back at the beaten and broken young man and had to swallow against the sudden lump in his throat. It was true that he may not survive what he had been put through, but Jean had to believe that his strength, and his friends, would indeed pull him through. "I will not allow you to die here, d'Artagnan. If you are right and you are not meant to survive this, then at least you should die a free man, in the arms of your brothers," he said.

d'Artagnan's heart skipped a beat at the man's words. He had called the musketeers his brothers, but d'Artagnan wasn't even sure if they considered him their friend, let alone a brother. Yes, it appeared as though they were there to rescue him and the thought gave him a surge of energy, but it didn't mean that they felt anything for him other than responsibility. d'Artagnan closed his eyes against the sudden emotions that overcame him, but then gasped as he felt his arm finally freed from its restraint. The sudden loss of stability that the restraint offered had the young man tipping backward and only the quick reaction by his rescuer kept him from further damaging himself. As it was, the weight of his body now fully on his still restrained arm, the arm whose shoulder had been so horribly damaged, brought a sharp cry from his lip as the wound was stretched and torn.

Jean steadied the young man and coaxed him to take as deep of breaths as his ribs would allow. Finally, the pain in his shoulder lessened and he looked up at the man and smiled appreciatively. "I'm okay," he gasped. "Please, free my other arm." Jean nodded then after making sure that the Gascon could support himself, went to work on the other wrist. He was only at if for a few moments before the distant sound of footsteps reached their ears. Jean scrambled from the platform and hastily shoved a pistol into d'Artagnan's free hand.

"I won't be able to get you free before he gets here," Jean cried, his eyes moving toward the door.

"It may be my friends," d'Artagnan offered hopefully as he turned to look over his shoulder, his dark eyes searching the gloom.

"No, they would be coming from the other direction. Only Amyot would be coming from that way," Jean explained. He turned to the Gascon and met his pain filled gaze. "Shoot him, d'Artagnan…as soon as you see him, do not hesitate. I will hurry and find your friends and bring them to you!"

"But they may kill you as soon as they see you!" d'Artagnan cried.

"Then I will die, but I have to try!" With that, Jean rushed from the room, leaving d'Artagnan to await the arrival of the man who had caused him so much torment.

Jean ran as fast as his legs could carry him toward the main part of the manor where he knew he would find the musketeers. He reached the stairs leading up to the kitchen and tore up them in a frenzied rush to get help for the young man he had grown to respect. He pushed open the door at the top of the steps and rushed across the empty kitchen and burst through the doors leading into the hallway beyond, only to stop short when there before him were three of the men he sought to find. His eyes took in the carnage around the three men and when he saw them start for him, he raised is hands to placate them and cried out for them to "Wait!"

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The Gascon took in a deep breath and with all the strength he could muster, heaved himself up onto his knees. He had to turn himself so that he faced the door when Amyot arrived, but he knew that it would be difficult and painful. With the sound of the footsteps getting ever nearer, d'Artagnan took as deep of a breath as he could then shoved himself away from the barrel with his free hand, his body swinging backward and to the side until he lay partially on his back on the platform, his body lifted slightly on one side by his still secured arm. He couldn't contain the scream that tore from him as the strain further tore his wound, but he had no time to recover as just at that moment Amyot burst into the room, his eyes wide as he found his prisoner halfway freed. The man took a step forward, but stopped when d'Artagnan raised the pistol that he had somehow been able to hold onto. Amyot laughed when he saw how badly the Gascon's hand was shaking.

"Go ahead, try to shoot me, boy. You'll never be able to hit me with your hand shaking so," Amyot taunted. "It looks like I have a traitor in my midst. Jean always was too soft for this," he added.

d'Artagnan watched the man, certain that he was right in his assumption that he would not be able to hit his target. Suddenly, Amyot lurched forward, bringing his hand down on d'Artagnan's wrist, forcing the young man to drop the pistol. Amyot's hand went around the Gascon's throat and began to squeeze, the young man's feet kicking out weakly as he struggled to break the hold. He gasped when Amyot released him, the young man sucking in air as quickly as he could.

"I think that soon your friends will arrive to save you," Amyot hissed as he pulled a piece of cloth from his pocket. "And I think that I will enjoy taking their lives as they attempt to rescue you," he added. d'Artagnan watched with lidded eyes as the man leaned forward and roughly tied the cloth over his mouth as tightly as he could, actually cutting the corners of his lips in doing so. He cried softly to himself when Amyot pulled a pistol from his belt and backed away before sliding into the shadows behind the door. He lifted his free hand and tried to remove the gag, but it was too tight and he was too weak. He closed his eyes in defeat. All that he could think was that Athos was right. He wasn't ready, and even if he did survive his ordeal, he probably would never be ready. He had thought himself to be worthy of being a musketeer, but this entire fiasco had proven to him that he was wrong. He would never be more than an orphaned farm boy and thought of that made him realize that he would almost rather be dead than to be that.

d'Artagnan was so lost in his misery that he almost missed the sounds of quickly approaching footsteps. He forced his eyes open, panic causing his lungs to constrict, making it hard to breathe. He most likely would not survive to see another day, but he could do one thing before his time came. He could kill the man who had caused him so much pain and save the men he held in such high esteem. He looked down, his eyes catching sight of his dropped pistol. He flicked his eyes toward the door, feeling Amyot's eyes on him even though he couldn't see him, but not caring about what the man may do to him. His only thought at that moment was to protect his friends. He stretched is arm out, fingers fumbling madly for the gun, but it was just out of reach. Taking as deep a breath as his battered body would allow, he pulled his body forward, knowing the pain he would endure as his shoulder was stretched, but not caring as long as he could reach the pistol. He screamed in agony as he strained to reach the pistol, the scream muffled by the gag in his mouth. His fingers finally closed over the gun just as the footsteps reached the doorway. He turned his head in time to see the Inseparables rush into the room, Athos calling out his name when their eyes met. He caught movement behind his friends and shifted his eyes to see Amyot step from the shadows, his pistol raised and aimed at Athos' head. He brought his arm up, pistol held in his shaking hand, as his friends watched him in shocked silence, not understanding why he would be aiming a gun at them.

A gunshot suddenly rang out and all hell broke loose.

 **That's it for now. I'll probably start working on the next chapter on Monday and may even be able to complete it as my busy time won't start again until the first of the month. Please let me know what you think of this chapter. We're almost to the end! Thanks for reading :)**

 **Cindy**


	8. Chapter 8 - Rescued

**So, I left you with quite the cliffy with the last chapter. I figured I better get this next chapter done as soon as possible so you wouldn't have to wait too long after that! Thank you for the comments and I do apologize for the cliffy, but then again, no I don't! LOL!**

 **Just to let you know, my busy time at work begins today so the next chapter may take a bit to get done and posted. Throw in the fact that next Wednesday I'll be flying to Las Vegas to attend the Supernatural convention...yay me...and it could be even longer since I won't have any time to write while I'm there. I will try as hard as I can to get the next chapter done before the convention, but no promises.**

 **I think that's all I need to say right now, so on with the story :)**

 **Chapter 8 – Rescued**

 _A gunshot suddenly rang out and all hell broke loose._

The Inseparables had little time to think when the gunshot rang out, followed almost simultaneously by a second one. They ducked instinctively, then a few seconds later, when they realized individually that they had not been hit, they turned their attention to their young Gascon friend. d'Artagnan still had the gun in his hand, his dark eyes wide as he stared at a point just behind them. The three turned their heads in unison to find a man sprawled on the floor, one hand pressed tightly against his shoulder. Crimson fluid leaked through his fingers and it was then that the three musketeers realized that it was this man whom d'Artagnan was aiming at and not them. Athos caught sight of a smoking pistol on the floor just out of reach of the man and everything clicked into place. This man was either going to shoot one of them or he was going to shoot d'Artagnan. In either case, d'Artagnan had hit his mark first. A sudden cry from Aramis had him whipping his head around. His heart plummeted when he saw Aramis rush to their friend and press his hand to the young man's ribs. It was then that he saw the fresh blood running down d'Artagnan's side. He looked up and met the pain filled eyes of his protégé. d'Artagnan blinked once, then twice before his eyes rolled back in their sockets and his head fell forward, his body going limp and partially hanging in the air from his still shackled wrist.

Athos lunged forward at the same time that Porthos grabbed Jean from where he stood in the doorway. "Tie him up!" Porthos spat as he pushed the shocked man toward his fallen leader. "If you try anythin' at all, I'll gut you," Porthos added. When Jean nodded his head, Porthos rushed to his friends. Athos had wrapped his arms around the Gascon's hips and was doing his best to not only hold the unconscious young man up so Aramis could inspect his wound, but also to relieve the pressure on his shoulder and arm. Both Athos and Aramis had seen the wound on d'Artagnan's shoulder, had known immediately that it had been cauterized, but with his side bleeding profusely, that was the wound that took precedent at the moment. Athos glanced up as Porthos arrived and tilted his head to the point where d'Artagnan's wrist was shackled.

"We need to free his wrist, but be careful of his shoulder…it looks like he's either been shot or stabbed, then the wound burned shut," Athos said. Porthos eyes went wide with shock and he turned to look at his young friends shoulder. He pursed his lips, keeping the curses inside then turned to Athos and nodded before leaping up onto the platform where he began to carefully inspect the shackle. He glanced down at Athos and whistled to get his attention. "Can you move behind him? He's doing to drop when I get this bugger off of him," he asked when the older musketeer looked up at him. Athos nodded and carefully maneuvered himself to where he was sitting behind the Gascon. It was then that he saw, at least partially, the damage done to the young man's back. He growled low in his throat, but contained his anger for the moment as there were more important things to worry about at the moment. He gently wrapped his arms around the young man's chest, careful to put as little pressure on his back as possible, but enough to hold him steady while Aramis worked on his side and Porthos worked on his wrist. It didn't take long before the shackle popped open and d'Artagnan's arm was free. Porthos carefully lowered his arm, but the movement still drew a gasp from the young man's lips and his eyes flew open. He fought against the hands that were on him, only to quiet when Athos whispered into his ear.

"Shh, d'Artagnan…you are safe now."

d'Artagnan stilled and slowly turned his head. "'thos?" he breathed out.

"I'm here," Athos responded, his lips curled up into a soft, relieved smile.

d'Artagnan gazed at his mentor with dull, pain filled eyes that within moments brimmed with unshed tears. "You came for me," he whispered, voice tinged with relief.

"Of course we came for you, pup, did you really think we wouldn't?" Porthos offered when it was clear that Athos had lost his ability to speak. Porthos stepped down from the platform and moved into d'Artagnan's line of vision. He smiled when d'Artagnan lifted his eyes to him. "Sorry it took so long," he added guiltily. There was a ghost of a smile on d'Artagnan's lips, but within seconds the smile turned into a grimace and the young man cried out in pain.

"Sorry," Aramis said, his dark eyes worriedly taking in the paleness of his patient's face. "I have to get this bleeding stopped," he added as he went back to work.

"Is…is it bad?" Athos asked, voice tight with concern.

"The shot grazed his rib...it's broken, but I can't tell if it's from the gunshot or from him being beaten," the medic answered angrily. "If the shot had been anymore to the left…it…," Aramis' voice trailed off, the medic unable to put into words what it would have meant for their young friend.

"I didn't tell," d'Artagnan whispered, apparently unaware of the conversation going on around him.

"What was that?" Athos asked.

"The l'tr…d'n't tell," the Gascon repeated, his words slurred as what energy he had was depleted.

"We know you didn't," Athos said as he brought one hand up to tenderly brush the hair from d'Artagnan's eyes. The young man gave a soft sigh as his eyes slid shut, his body sagging against his mentors chest, his head falling back to rest on Athos' shoulder. "Aramis?" Athos called frantically as fear clenched his stomach.

Aramis looked up from where he was bandaging d'Artagnan's side and watched. He gave a quick grin before going back to wrapping a piece of cloth around the young man's chest to hold the bandage in place. "He's out, but he's breathing. It'll be for the best since we need to move him off this platform so I can get a better look at him," he said. "Porthos, I need something on the floor that we can lay him on," Aramis instructed. Porthos nodded then removed his cloak and laid it on the floor at the base of the platform.

"We need to be careful of his back," Athos said, his eyes cold as he glanced over at the tied up man on the floor.

The man grinned, his eyes meeting Athos' icy glare. Athos' lip curled up, but a soft groan from his protégé brought his attention back to where it belonged. "You two ready?" Aramis asked as he moved into position at d'Artagnan's feet. Porthos nodded from where he stood at d'Artagnan's side, ready to lift him as soon as Athos moved to his other side. Once Aramis gave the signal, the three men ever so carefully lifted their young friend and moved him from the platform where they then set him gently onto the cloak, both Porthos and Athos holding him in a sitting position so Aramis could examine his back. What Aramis saw made his blood boil and a string of Spanish curses rolled off his tongue as he turned to glare at who he assumed to be Amyot.

"You bastard!" Aramis spat. At his words, Porthos, who had yet to see the Gascon's back tilted his head so he could get a look. The rage the suddenly roared to life inside of him and if he was needed to hold the young man, he would have stomped across the room and ripped the man's head from his body.

"I'm gonna enjoy getting' my 'ands on you," the big man hissed as he glared daggers at the smirking prisoner.

Aramis took a few deep breaths to calm himself before continuing on with his assessment of d'Artagnan's back. He followed one particularly painful looking welt, sucking in a startled breath when it continued up and around the Gascon's neck. He gently tilted the unconscious man's head back and let out a pained cry when he saw the welt across the front of d'Artagnan's throat. Both Athos and Porthos followed his line of sight and it was all they could do to keep from running over and butchering his torturer.

"That one's a screamer, I have to tell you. Squealed like a stuck pig when I did that to his back," Amyot called from where he sat, the entire front of his shirt stained a deep red. "Wasn't so loud when I had his head under water though," he added with a wide grin.

That was it, the straw that broke the camel's back. Porthos had heard enough. He turned to Athos and met the man's rage filled eyes. "You got 'im for a minute?" he asked. He smiled when Athos nodded his head.

Porthos stood and glared at Amyot. He tilted his head one way, then the other, working out the kinks then strolled across the room where he stood over the bound man. He gave one look to Jean as he stood in silence beside the man. A slight lift of Jean's lip told Porthos that he would not interfere. Porthos knelt before the man and reached for his shoulder. The scream that tore from Amyot's lips when the large musketeer pressed his thumb into the hole in his shoulder was music to the Inseparables ears. When Porthos finally pulled his hand away, Amyot began to heave, the contents of his stomach spilling onto this outstretched legs. When he had stopped he looked up at Porthos then turned his gaze onto the still unconscious Gascon.

"I should have killed the stubborn little brat when I had the chance. Should have held his head under the water until he stopped thrashing about," Amyot spat. "Nothing but a pain in my ass."

Porthos reached down and grabbed Amyot's hair, yanking his head up until their eyes met. "That's our Gascon," he said fondly before pounding his fist into the smirking man's face. Amyot's face went blank and when Porthos released his hair, he fell to the side and lay perfectly still. Porthos stood over the man for a few moments then hurried back to his brother's sides.

"'ow's 'e doing?" Porthos asked as he dropped to his knees.

Athos looked his way and tilted his head. "Still the same," he answered. "Didn't even flinch when Amyot screamed."

"We need to get him out of this room and some place warmer and with more light so I can work on him," Aramis said, his gaze meeting those of his brothers when they looked his way.

"Uh…I can show you where to take him," Jean said as he stepped up to the men, his eyes moving to the young man between them. "He's going to be okay, isn't he?" he asked with obvious concern in his voice.

Aramis sighed as he brushed a hand over his face. "I hope so, though it is hard to tell right now. I need to be able to examine him more closely," he answered.

Jean nodded, his hands clasped together before him. "We have an infirmary set up…I'll show you the way. We have food…water…wine…"

"We need to make sure Amyot is secure. We can't just leave him here since we don't know if the others have taken care of the rest of the men," Athos said.

Jean looked back at his former boss and nodded. "I'll tie him up nice and secure then we can lock him in this room until you figure out what you wish to do with him. I have the only key," he said.

"Why are you helping us?" Athos asked as he watched the man move to further secure Amyot.

Jean looked up from his work and shrugged. "Amyot went mad…at least that's all I can think of for why he changed so much. He used to be so impassioned about his cause, but then he just…snapped. When he brought your young friend here and I heard how d'Artagnan had taken out three men, despite his young age, I…I don't know. I saw something in him…when we were ordered to secure him in here, he showed no fear. And even through everything that Amyot did or had done to him, he never told us anything about that damned letter. His loyalty despite everything he was going through was inspiring. I helped him when I could…gave him water, but I wasn't with him alone enough to do much more I'm afraid," he explained as he gave the cloth he had tied around Amyot's ankles a firm tug.

Aramis glanced over and smiled appreciatively. "Are you the one who released his one wrist…gave him a pistol?" he asked.

Jean nodded as he stood and moved closer to the musketeers. "I tried to free him. When you and the others attacked, I knew that I may have a chance so I hurried down here. I got one arm free, but then I heard Amyot coming. I knew I would never get him free and out of here so I gave him a pistol and promised him that I would find the musketeers and bring them to him," he explained.

It was Athos' turn to look at the man, and though he wasn't quite as trusting as the others, the man before them had proven himself worthy. "Thank you. We owe you a great deal for keeping him as safe as you could," he said.

Jean tipped his head in acknowledgement then went to the door and looked out into the passageway beyond. He turned back and nodded. "I don't hear anything. Hopefully the others have been dealt with," he said.

"Can you gather 'is things? 'is weapons, doublet and shirt? Do you know where they are?" Porthos asked from where he still knelt beside his brothers.

"His weapons were taken to be stored with our other weapons," Jean answered. "His doublet is here somewhere, but his shirt…it was cut from him so Amyot could cauterize his shoulder," he added guiltily.

Porthos nodded as he looked at the man. "Gather 'is doublet then while we prepare to move 'im," he said.

"Of course," Jean said before he moved further into the other side of the room to search.

Porthos turned back to his friends, his dark eyes moving over the unconscious man between them. "'ow are we gonna move 'im without 'urting 'im?" he asked.

Aramis let out a breath as he thought about how to proceed. "We can't carry him over a shoulder because of his ribs so you'll have to carry him in your arms," he finally said.

"But what about his back?" Athos asked, his blue eyes moving to once again take in the damaged skin.

"It will hurt like hell if he awakens, but it won't do any more damage than what's already been done," Aramis replied. "No matter how we carry him, it's going to hurt…unless he stays unconscious."

Porthos nodded as he looked from one friend to the other. "Then I will carry 'im," he said.

"Good then," Aramis said. "Now, lay him down…gently."

Athos and Porthos did as they were told and eased the Gascon to the floor. He groaned softly, but didn't awaken, shedding light on just how painful his injuries were. Once he had settled again, the two musketeers wrapped the cloak around his torso. Porthos eased his arms beneath the young man's shoulders and knees, being as careful as he could to not cause the Gascon any undue pain. Aramis and Athos moved to his other side and together they helped Porthos lift him from the floor. d'Artagnan let out a soft cry of pain and his eyes fluttered open, only to fall shut a few moments later, causing each man to sigh in relief. They knew the journey to the upper floors would jostle the young man and hoped that he would remain as unaware as possible until they could get him into a comfortable bed. When they were ready, Athos led the way out of the room, followed by Porthos and d'Artagnan, then Aramis. Once in the passageway, they waited for Jean to exit the room and lock the door. He went to the front of the group and handed both d'Artagnan's doublet and the key to Athos. "You should keep hold of this," he said. "Follow me…we'll take the back way, just in case."

Jean started down the passageway in the opposite direction from which they had come, the three musketeers and their precious burden following closely behind. They took several turns into other hallways until they finally reached a flight of stairs that led up to the main level. They ascended the stairs, Athos taking the lead, his sword at the ready, when they reached the door at the top. He eased the door open and peered into the space beyond. Seeing and hearing nothing, he stepped into what turned out to be a large bedroom and held the door for the others to come through.

"This is Amyot's room," Jean explained when they were all through the door. "I'll take you to the infirmary now. You'll have everything you need to take care of d'Artagnan."

Athos nodded appreciatively and the group followed the man out into the hallway beyond. Within minutes they were at the makeshift infirmary and Aramis was pleasantly surprised to see that there were indeed plenty of supplies to handle all of d'Artagnan's injuries.

"There, on the first bed," Aramis instructed.

Porthos nodded and carried his friend to bed Aramis had indicated while Athos walked ahead to pull the blankets and sheet back. Together, the two musketeers set the young man on the edge of the bed and held him upright while Aramis removed his boots and breeches, leaving him in just his braies. When he was ready to be laid down, they pulled Porthos' cloak away and eased him down, Athos lifting his feet and helping to maneuver him until he was lying straight on the bed. Aramis left the Gascon in his friend's capable hands and turned to Jean. "I'll need hot water and wine to clean his wounds," he instructed. Jean nodded his head and made for the door, stopping and turning when Aramis called after him. "If you see our fellow musketeers, tell them what has happened and let them know where we are," he said.

"What if they attack me?" Jean asked fearfully.

"They may try, but if you are unarmed they will not hurt you," Athos said from where he sat on the edge of d'Artagnan's bed. "Tell them that Athos sends his regards and is still the best swordsman in the regiment," he added with a smirk.

Jean looked confused at the statement, but nodded his head before rushing from the room. Aramis carried the supplies he had gathered to the bed and set them on the table next to it. "Porthos, there are clean bandages in the cupboards. Will you please bring as many as you can to me?"

Porthos nodded and did as he was asked while Aramis went to work fully examining their young friend. He first looked at the wound on his shoulder, hissing when he saw how red and inflamed it was now that he had light. "This is infected and will need to be re-opened so I can clean the infection and any dirt and particles out. Since I don't know if he's been stabbed or shot, there is no way to tell if there is still a ball in there or not. We'll have to wait until…uh…did anyone catch d'Artagnan's friend's name?"

Both Athos and Porthos shook their heads in response, drawing a sigh from the medic. "We'll have to ask when he returns, and we'll have to ask if this is a gunshot or stab wound," he said. Aramis went back to his triage of the Gascon, his fingers deftly moving over each rib. "He has cracked ribs on both sides so when I clean his back, we'll have to sit him up," he said before moving on with his examination.

He felt the length of each arm and leg, smiling when all the bones felt intact. He then examined the Gascon's shredded wrists and shook his head in dismay. "He tried hard to get free," he said when the two others looked at the young man's wrists.

"Whelp went through hell," Porthos muttered, his eyes glistening as he stared down into d'Artagnan's lax face.

"Stop, Porthos. This wasn't your fault," Athos drawled.

Porthos looked at his friend in dismay. "Sure feels like it is," he said.

"No one's fault," a weak voice croaked and all eyes turned toward the young man in the bed.

"d'Artagnan," Athos breathed out as he immediately took the young man's hand in his own.

"'m sorry," d'Artagnan whispered, his half open eyes looking up into the worried, yet relieved faces of his friends.

"What do you 'ave to be sorry, for, whelp?" Porthos asked.

"I thought you had forsaken me," the Gascon said, his voice barely audible. "I was wrong to think that."

Aramis smiled as he lifted d'Artagnan's other hand and held it tightly. "We would never forsake our brother," he said with a fond smile.

Tears filled d'Artagnan's eyes, one spilling over to trail lazily down his temple. "Brother," he whispered, a slight smile curling his lips. His eyes closed once again and the three men looked at each other, each with their own tears to hold back. Athos looked down at their youngest and brushed the hair from his eyes.

"Sleep, brother…we're here now," he whispered.

 **Yay...no cliffy! And the boys have been reunited! Double yay! Now, what should we do with Amyot? I haven't yet decided if he will die now, or answer to Louis first. Hmmm...**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you'll let me know what you thought of this chapter. Take care all :)**

 **Cindy**


	9. Chapter 9 - The Reunion

**My humblest apologies for the extremely long wait for this chapter! I had my Supernatural convention in Las Vegas and then last week on my first day back to work I started work on this chapter, but then the "cold" I had been trying to catch for two weeks reared it's ugly head (and turned into the flu) and I was out for the rest of the week, sicker than I've been in years. I am just finally back to work today and I was determined to get this done so I could post it. I truly hope that it is worth the wait. I won't babble on any more so you can get right to it!**

 **Chapter 9 – The Reunion**

Jean hurried through the hallways of the rundown manor, his eyes peeled for any sign of the other musketeers. Fear crept over him at the prospect that he might be attacked and killed before he had a chance to explain that he was there to help. He thought back on the words of the one musketeer, the one who appeared to be the eldest. The musketeers would not harm him if he were unarmed. He made sure to keep his hands visible while he made his way to the kitchens. He came to the grand staircase and started down. When he reached the bottom, he encountered the body of one of Amyot's friends. He quickly crossed himself and sent up a quick prayer for the man's soul before continuing on his way. In the foyer he encountered five more bodies of his former comrades. He sent up another prayer as he rushed through the macabre scene and headed for the kitchen. He maneuvered his way around the three bodies outside of the kitchen and quickly went through the doors. He rushed to start a fire in the large fireplace then filled a pot with water from the barrel in the corner, which he then set on the hearth to heat. He filled another pot with cool water, anticipating that the young man upstairs would soon be feverish, if he wasn't already.

Once the pots were filled, Jean went to work preparing a tray of food for the musketeers. He loaded dried meats, cheeses and bread onto the tray, then added dried fruits as well. Thinking for a moment, then nodding his head, he began to prepare a broth for his new young friend. He hoped that the boy would be awake so he could take the nourishment that he so desperately needed. He had just finished filling a covered serving bowl with the broth when the door to the kitchen swung open and two musketeers walked inside, their weapons drawn as they carefully glanced around. Two sets of surprised eyes met each other, and one man advanced while the other man held his hands up in surrender and stepped out from behind the table he was working at.

"I am Jean Dubois and I am unarmed. Please do not hurt me," Jean called out, his eyes wide as he watched the man approach. "Athos sends his regards and said to tell you that he is still the best marksman in the garrison!" he cried when it appeared as though the man had every intention of doing just that.

With that, the musketeer stopped and regarded the man critically. Jean stepped back when the musketeer suddenly let out a loud laugh. "Oh, he is, is he?" the man asked when he had finally stopped laughing. When Jean nodded, the musketeer lowered his sword and stepped forward. "I am Etienne of the King's musketeers," he said in introduction. "How is it that you have come to know about our greatest swordsman?"

Jean lowered his hands, but still kept them in sight as he answered. "I found him and the other two. I led them to d'Artagnan. They…"

"Does d'Artagnan live?" the other musketeer asked as he too stepped forward.

Jean nodded as he met the other musketeer's gaze. "Yes, he does. He and the others are in the infirmary now. I am preparing water to clean his wounds, and food for the others. I can lead you to them," he answered.

Etienne looked over to the table and saw the tray filled with food. He glanced at the fire and saw the pot that sat on the hearth, steam rising up from the liquid inside. He turned to his companion and nodded. "We shall help you carry this to our friends," he said as he turned back to Jean. "You will walk ahead of Bastien and I."

Jean nodded and backed away as Bastien came to the table and lifted the tray laden with food and broth. Jean moved to the hearth and grabbed a rag that hung from a hook at the side of the fireplace. He lifted the heated water pot, then picked up the other water pot and led the way to the infirmary, the two musketeers right behind him, Bastien with his tray and Etienne at the rear with his sword drawn, eyes watching for any sign of trouble. They ascended the stairs as quickly as their burdens allowed and soon they were walking into the infirmary where the two musketeers got their first look at the battered form of the young musketeer recruit. Etienne immediately moved to the bed where the three Inseparables watched over the young man while Bastien and Jean set the water and food on the table.

"How is he?" he asked as his eyes roamed over the semi-conscious young man's body, anger growing at each hurt he saw.

Aramis looked up at his comrade and gave a sad smile. "Holding his own, considering," he answered, to which Etienne gave a quick nod. Aramis shifted his gaze when Jean stepped up beside the musketeer.

"I must go back for the wine. I'll return shortly," Jean said. "There is food for you and I prepared some broth for the boy. He hasn't eaten," he added.

"Thank you, Jean, but first, can you tell me if the wound on d'Artagnan's shoulder is from a gunshot or a knife?" Aramis asked as he turned back to his patient.

Jean closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, the musketeers could see the guilt and anger in them. "It is from a knife," he answered thickly. "Amyot stabbed him, then twisted the blade. Once he pulled the knife out, he burned the wound shut so the boy wouldn't bleed to death."

Aramis nodded, the medic unable to form words as grief and anger filled him. He could hear Athos' heavy breaths and the curses that Porthos began to utter, but for a moment he could think of nothing other than the deep desire to string Amyot up like he had done d'Artagnan and using a knife on him. Finally, he was able to calm himself enough to speak. "I'll need that hot water over here so I can clean his wounds," he said, his voice shaky as he turned to his young friend.

"Bastien, bring the water then go with Jean. Find Vincent and Thibault and bring them here so we can take care of their wounds as well," Etienne instructed. Bastien nodded and brought the water over then followed Jean out of the room.

"Vincent and Thibault are wounded?" Athos asked as he looked up and met Etienne's eyes.

"Only minor wounds…a few cuts and scratches, but they could become infected if not treated," Etienne answered.

"And what of you and Bastien?" Athos queried.

"Not a scratch between us," Etienne answered with a wink.

"There should have been three more of Amyot's men," Athos said. "Did you find them?"

Etienne nodded from where he stood. "All dead. Vincent and Thibault split from Bastien and I so we could cover more ground in making sure there were no surprises," he explained. "What of your prisoner?"

Athos dipped his head in appreciation and turned back to stare down at d'Artagnan. "Killed by his own man. Amyot is secured in a room in the basement. We must get him to Paris as soon as possible so that he can face King Louis," he said.

"d'Artagnan cannot travel for several days," Aramis stated as he continued to check the Gascon over.

"We can escort the traitor and his man back to Paris. The three of you can stay with the lad until he is ready to travel. If that is agreeable with you, Athos," Etienne said.

Athos glanced up and nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking, only Jean will be staying here with us. You will only be escorting Amyot," he replied.

"But, Athos, you will have your hands full with d'Artagnan," Etienne argued.

"Jean helped d'Artagnan and led us to him. He risked himself in trying to free him," Athos said.

"Are you sure that he didn't help just to save himself?" Etienne inquired.

"We will know more once d'Artagnan is aware enough to give us his account. Until then, Jean stays with us. If d'Artagnan does not back up what he has told us, then we will bring him to Paris when we return," Athos said. "If he helped d'Artagnan as he claims, then he is the reason we found him alive and for that he has earned a reprieve from any past transgressions."

"But would King Louis feel the same? Would you hold your knowledge of his involvement back from the king? That would be considered treason itself, Athos," Etienne said.

Athos opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted when Jean entered the room with the wine. "He will not need to keep any secrets from King Louis. I will come to Paris and confess my crimes before the king," he said as he set the jug of wine down beside Aramis.

"N-no…y-you can't," a weak, shaky voice said. All eyes moved to the man in the bed, who looked back with half open eyes.

"d'Artagnan," Athos said. "Save your strength."

"H-he helped me, 'thos…p-please…" d'Artagnan whispered, his voice trailing off as he lost hold of consciousness.

Athos looked up at Jean. "If you go before the king, he may not care that you saved one of his musketeer recruits, Jean. You could be put to death, regardless of how much you helped us," he explained.

"Then I will be put to death. I followed Amyot, and if I am punished for that, then it is the way it must be," Jean said.

"But what of your family?" Porthos asked.

Jean shook his head sadly and looked up at the large musketeer. "My wife died in childbirth. My parents and brothers are all dead. That is why I found myself with Amyot. He gave voice to what I was feeling, saying that we needed to petition the king about the conditions many of his subjects live in. It was when he started speaking of marching against the king that I started to have my doubts. At first I didn't think he was serious, but then I found out that he had a spy at the palace and that he fully planned on attacking King Louis and the entire court. I didn't want that to happen, could never want that to happen and I tried to find a way to warn the court, but he kept all of us under his thumb. If I had left he would have hunted me down and killed me," he explained.

"He planned to march against King Louis with this few men?" Porthos asked.

"No…there are others. This plot is bigger than just Amyot," Jean said.

Athos stood at this news and glanced at his fellow musketeers. "Do you know who else is involved in this plot?" he asked.

Jean nodded as he met Athos' gaze. "I was able to overhear a meeting Amyot had with three other men, all of whom had their own followers. I was trying to learn everything I could in case I had the opportunity to break free of Amyot," he answered.

Athos walked around the bed and stood before Jean. "I need you to write everything that you know down. The names of the men you overheard…anything that will help us bring these men to justice. If you do this, you will not be considered a conspirator, but as an infiltrator gaining evidence of this plot against the king," he said.

"You may even get rewarded for your bravery," Porthos said.

"But I…"

"You protected d'Artagnan, a recruit for the king's musketeers, as best you could. You garnered knowledge of the plot against the king, at great risk to yourself and you attempted to free d'Artagnan, again at great risk, then brought us to him. You would deserve any reward the king would choose to give you," Aramis stated from where he still sat beside the unconscious Gascon.

"But would the king even listen to the words of a peasant man? Would he think that I was just trying to save myself?" Jean asked.

"He would listen if his musketeers stood by you," Athos stated.

Jean swept his gaze over the musketeers, his heart filled with hope. "And you will stand by me?" he asked.

Porthos stepped forward and clapped the smaller man's shoulder. "You watched over our brother when we could not. We will be by your side," he said in reply.

"Now that we have that settled, can we please avert our attention to what is most important?" Aramis queried as began to clean d'Artagnan with the hot water that had been provided for him. When all eyes were on him, he continued. "I'm going to need help in cleaning his wounds. Then I need to determine how to treat his back and his side. I will have to reopen his shoulder wound to drain the infection out and thoroughly clean it as I am sure that is where his fever is coming from. This will be most unpleasant for all involved and I would like to get it done so the poor lad can finally rest," he said.

Athos gave a quick nod as he met the medics eyes. "Of course," he said. He then turned to Etienne. "Take Jean to get his account of all that has happened with Amyot. You and your men will rest today, fill your bags with provisions and leave in the morning with Amyot for Paris," he instructed.

"We can leave today, Athos, as soon as Vincent and Thibault are patched up," Etienne stated.

"No. Tomorrow will be soon enough. I would like to speak with Amyot before he is taken to face the king. This will give you and your men plenty of time to rest for the journey. I will send a letter with you to give to Treville as well," Athos said.

Etienne nodded and motioned for Jean to follow him. Once the Inseparables were alone, they turned their attention to their wounded brother. Together, Aramis and Porthos cleaned the blood, sweat and grime from the Gascon's body as Athos watched, his fingers absently carding comfortingly through the lad's hair. A half hour after they had begun, Bastien returned with Vincent and Thibault. Seeing that the three Inseparables were busy with their charge, Bastien took it upon himself to clean and bandage his two comrades wounds. The three musketeers watched the others as they cared for their youngest, awed by the fact that the young farm boy from Gascony had somehow managed to find a place amongst the three when no one else before them had ever come close. Yet here it was before them all to see…the three clearly felt more than just a responsibility for their recruit as there was obvious grief in their eyes as each cry of pain came from the lad. The gentleness of Athos as he whispered to the boy was what struck the three observers the most. It was not like Treville's second in command to outwardly show such concern and care. This boy meant a great deal to the Inseparables, and maybe they too were just coming to realize it as the three observers caught the looks the three men would give each other occasionally. Bastien grinned to himself, amused by breach the Gascon had unwittingly created in the Inseparables invisible wall. He schooled himself when Athos suddenly looked up and met his eyes.

"When you are finished with them, the three of you should head down to the kitchen and fix yourself a meal," Athos drawled before returning his gaze to d'Artagnan. "Then you can find a place to rest as you'll begin your journey back to Paris in the morning. The three of us will take turns on guard once the boy is resting," he added without looking back up.

Bastien nodded even though Athos couldn't see it. He was not offended by the apparent cold treatment as he knew it was Athos' way. The fact that they would not be expected to stand guard was all he needed to know that Athos did indeed care about their wellbeing. He finished with the cut on Thibault's side, bandaged it and then the three men made a silent departure, once again leaving the Inseparables to their Gascon. The three continued to work on the young man and finally reached a point where Aramis could begin to actually treat the many wounds. When he inspected d'Artagnan's back, once it had been cleaned, he determined that none of the welts would require stitching, much to his relief. He As he had already determined, the shoulder wound would require painful attention. His wrists would require some salve and bandaging, but that could wait. At the top of his list was the wound left by Amyot's musket ball. Though not much more than a graze, it would require stitching as it still bled, though now only sluggishly, then the boy's ribs would need to be wrapped. The shoulder wound would come last and then, finally, d'Artagnan would be able to get the rest his battered body needed so badly.

Aramis looked up, just as both Porthos and Athos did. They met each other's eyes, nodded, and Aramis got to work.

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The Inseparables were exhausted by the time the last bandage was tied off around d'Artagnan's shoulder. The sheer agony opening the shoulder wound had caused had brought all three men to tears, though none would acknowledge to anyone beyond the room how devastating the young Gascon's screams had been to them. d'Artagnan had fought against the inferno Aramis' ministrations had created and all three older men had prayed that he would once again fall into unconsciousness, but the pain was too great for that and the poor lad had had to endure the agony until finally, the last thread of cloth had been removed and the wound had been bathed in wine and then sewn shut. He still panted and gasped now that the bandage was finally done, his body soaked with sweat, but the screams were a horrible memory that the Inseparables would never forget, no matter how much they wished it to be. Aramis drew in a deep breath before rising and moving to the cupboards. He mixed together a potion and slowly walked back to the bed d'Artagnan lay upon.

"d'Artagnan, you must drink this. It will relieve your pain and allow you to rest," Aramis said tiredly as he took his seat next to the bed.

"Mmmm," was all that the Gascon could manage, but he did open his eyes marginally to stare blearily up at the medic. Aramis smiled warmly and cupped the young man's neck. Together, he and Porthos lifted the Gascon so he could drink the concoction. Once the cup was empty the gently lowered him back to the bed. The Gascon was out in just a few short minutes, his exhaustion pulling him under before the potion even had a chance to do it's magic. Aramis sighed as he leaned back in his chair and glanced from Porthos to the silent Athos.

"He'll be out for hours, you two should get something to eat and then rest," Aramis said.

Athos looked up and shook his head. "No, you are the one who needs the rest the most. I will watch over him while you and Porthos eat and rest. I will alert you if you are needed," he answered.

Aramis rolled his eyes, but knew that would be the response Athos would give. He glanced at Porthos and nodded his head. With one last look at his patient, Aramis pushed to his feet. Porthos brushed gently patted the sleeping recruits uninjured shoulder before he too rose to his feet. Together the two prepared a small meal and ate it as Athos moved to the chair that Aramis had vacated. Once they were finished, Porthos prepared a plate for Athos and once he saw the man begin to eat, he and Aramis tiredly climbed into the two other beds in the room and promptly fell asleep. Athos watched his brothers for a moment then turned his attention back to his protégé. Grasping the young man's hand in his own, he let his head drop until his forehead rested on their clasped hands.

"Rest, d'Artagnan. You are not alone, my brother," Athos whispered as he prepared for the long watch before him.

 **That is it for now. I promise you all that it won't be so long before the next chapter is completed. Thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	10. Chapter 10 - Watching Over the Gascon

**Hey! Look at me...posting twice in the same week! Woohoo! This is a shorter chapter, but with the weekend upon me I wanted to get something out since I only work on my stories at work. This is just a little fluff chapter between our four favorite guys. I hope you enjoy it!**

Chapter 10 – Watching Over the Gascon

He looked peaceful, like he was just sleeping and not broken and drugged, but then, every now and again, his brow would crease and he would let out a soft cry as his head rolled on the pillow beneath it, the young man caught in an obviously dark dream. Athos would take his hand and squeeze it just a little bit to let him know that he was not alone. d'Artagnan would quiet then. His head would turn until he faced his mentor and he would be peaceful again, until the next time. Athos sighed as he watched the young man and wished fervently that the dreams would let the Gascon be. He itched to make the journey down beneath the manor, to the room that held Amyot, but he couldn't leave the boy alone to wake up with nobody beside him, with nobody to chase the dreams away when they came. Porthos and Aramis were still dead to the world and Athos would not waken them to take his place. Not yet. He needed this time with the lad, even if he was loathe to admit it. He wondered, not for the first time since starting his watch, when he had come to care so much for the young recruit. Had it been for some time now and he just hadn't known? Or was it upon seeing him in such a horrific state, but still hanging on to his loyalty like a lifeline? Athos did not know, nor could he bring himself to worry too much over it. The only thing that mattered was that he did care. He cared a lot, and it both terrified him and left him with a warmth inside that he thought he had lost all those years ago when Thomas lay dead at his feet. Not only did he have a protégé to guide and teach all that he knew, but he also had a little brother again. One that he felt such fierce protectiveness over that it scared him. What would it do to him to lose this boy who he had only just come to know? He shuddered at the thought. Another soft cry from the man in the bed brought him out of his musings and he reached down once again to take the Gascon's hand.

"Shh, d'Artagnan. I am here and you are safe," Athos whispered as he gently rubbed his thumb over the back of d'Artagnan's hand. "I will not leave you," he added as a solemn vow.

"'thos?" came a hoarse whisper from the Gascon. Athos leaned over the young man and watched his face screw up in pain. He squeezed his hand with one of his while he moved the other hand to brush shaky fingers through d'Artagnan's sweat soaked hair.

"It's okay, d'Artagnan…breathe through the pain," Athos said as he watched his protégé's eyes flutter open and stare up at him.

"'urts," d'Artagnan gasped, the young man staring up at his mentor, pleading with his eyes for the pain to stop.

"I know it does. I will awaken Aramis so he can make you another draught," Athos said, his heart clenching as he watched his brother writhe in pain.

"Please…don't leave me…"

Athos smiled sadly as he shook his head. "I won't…Aramis is just over there, sleeping," he explained.

d'Artagnan nodded and a look of shame swept over his face. "'m sorry 'm so weak. I mus' be a disappointment," he said as he turned his head away.

Athos closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them to look down at the Gascon. "Look at me, d'Artagnan," he commanded softly. He smiled when the young man finally turned and looked up at him.

"You are far from weak, my young friend. You have proven how very strong you are. Do not ever sell yourself short in that regard," Athos said emphatically. "I am so very proud of you, and so angry with myself for allowing this to happen to you."

The Gascon's eyes became suspiciously bright as he stared up at his mentor. "'s not your fault, 'thos. I was being a pain…"

"You were not being a pain, d'Artagnan. I was being an ass, however," Athos said.

The Gascon grinned slightly at this, but then a particularly sharp pain shot through his shoulder and he gasped, his hand clenching Athos' like his life depended on it. He squeezed his eyes shut as Athos instructed him to once again breathe through the pain. Finally, after several agonizing moments, d'Artagnan loosened his grip on Athos' hand and somewhat relaxed back against the mattress. Athos could see how exhausted he was and waited until the young man once again opened his eyes to look up at him.

"I'm going to wake Aramis…I'll be just across the room," Athos said. He waited until d'Artagnan reluctantly nodded then rested the boy's hand over his torso. He stood and quickly made his way to Aramis' side, then reached down and gently shook the man awake.

"Wh…what? What's wrong? d'Artagnan…" Aramis sputtered as he came awake, his eyes immediately searching out his patient.

"He's okay, Aramis…he just woke in a lot of pain," Athos said. "He needs more of the pain draught."

Aramis nodded his head and pulled himself from the small bed he lay upon. Porthos, awakened by the voices beside him, grumbled incoherently as he too dragged himself up. "'ow's the pup?" he asked as he looked up at his brothers.

"In a lot of pain, but doing as well as can be expected," Athos answered.

"'is fever?" Porthos queried with concern.

"No worse than it was before," Athos said in reply.

Aramis moved silently past Athos and went straight to d'Artagnan's side. He sat on the chair beside the bed and smiled warmly down at the young man. "I hear you are in pain," he said as he brushed his fingers over d'Artagnan's forehead. He nodded when he found that indeed, his fever had not worsened.

"'m okay, Aramis," came d'Artagnan's weak reply.

"Mmhmm…I'll be the one to decide that," Aramis said with a wink of his eye. "Now, let me mix up another batch of pain draught so you can get some rest. Do you think you could take some broth as well?" he asked.

d'Artagnan nodded. Though the thought of food made his stomach turn, he knew that he needed nourishment and besides, he didn't want to further worry his friends. Aramis smiled fondly then stood to prepare the draught. "Porthos, could you take the broth back down to the kitchen and heat it again? I would like to get at least some nourishment in our young comrade before he goes back to sleep," he called.

Porthos nodded before stepping up beside the bed. He kneeled down and gently ruffled the Gascon's hair. "'ow you feeling, pup?" he asked with the brightest smile he could muster under the circumstances.

"'m 'kay, Porthos," d'Artagnan answered tiredly.

Porthos nodded, knowing full well that the Gascon was trying to make them all feel better by downplaying how he felt. He patted d'Artagnan's good shoulder then pushed himself to his feet. "Be right back," he said as he moved to the table where Aramis was mixing together the ingredients for the draught and picked up the bowl of cold broth. Aramis smiled his appreciation and continued to mix the draught while Athos moved back to his protégé's side and sat once again in the chair.

"Amyot?" d'Artagnan asked, his voice tinged with what Athos could only surmise as fear.

"Trussed up like a Christmas turkey and locked in the room that you were held in," Athos answered, his blood boiling anew at what his young friend had been put through.

d'Artagnan took a steadying breath, then nodded. "And Jean? Is he okay?" he finally asked.

"Jean is writing out his statement to present to King Louis," Athos replied.

"Statement?"

"It seems your new friend was gathering some very important information that will help unveil a deeper plot than we had originally imagined."

"Plot?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos sighed, suddenly remembering that d'Artagnan didn't know all that had transpired with the letter. "When you are recovered I will tell you everything. Right now, you need to rest," Athos said. "When Porthos returns you can drink your broth, then take Aramis' draught."

"But the letter was delivered safely?" d'Artagnan asked.

Athos glanced over his shoulder and met Aramis' eyes. Aramis shrugged and gave him the slightest of nods. Athos turned back to d'Artagnan. "The letter," he started, but anger at the situation and the pain it had caused their youngest stopped his words in their tracks.

"'thos?"

Athos pursed his lips as he decided if he should tell the Gascon about the letter. Of course, he would eventually have to tell him, but he wasn't sure that right now would be the best time. When he caught the expectant look in his protégé's eyes however, the decision was made. The boy deserved to know.

"The letter was a decoy of sorts. It was sent to draw out an alleged spy," Athos said. He watched as d'Artagnan's exhausted mind mulled over what he had been told. Finally, the Gascon looked up at him.

"Did it work?" he asked

"It did what it was intended to do," Athos answered.

D'Artagnan nodded, his eyes drooping as he let out a long breath. "Then all of this was worth it," he said.

Athos dropped his head and took in a shaky breath. He glanced to his side and saw that Porthos stood in the doorway and had obviously heard what the Gascon had said. Emotions warred in the large man's eyes…anger, guilt, grief…but mostly, Athos saw pride. Without a word, Porthos stepped forward and handed the broth to Athos. He went around the bed and sat on the vacant chair. He gently helped d'Artagnan raise his head while Athos held the cup to the young man's lips. Slowly, d'Artagnan drained the cup, leaving his mentor to smile proudly down at him. When he was finished with that, Aramis handed the pain draught to Athos and the process was repeated. Finally, d'Artagnan was done, his body sagging against Porthos' hold. The large musketeer ever so carefully lowered him back to the bed. The Gascon glanced up at the man and smiled appreciatively.

"Don' leave…please," d'Artagnan whispered as his eyes slipped shut and his breaths evened out.

"We ain't goin' nowhere," Porthos said fondly as he stroked the boy's arm. He sat back in his chair and glanced at his two friends. "Whelp is somethin' else, I tell ya," he said.

Aramis nodded his agreement. "Yes, he is not like anyone else I have ever met," he said. "Unless you consider his stubbornness, and in that he is exactly like Athos," he added with a grin.

"Yes, well, it seems his stubbornness has served him well," Athos said as he pushed to his feet. He spared one last glance down at d'Artagnan and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Aramis asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Athos stopped and looked over his shoulder. "To speak to Amyot," he growled.

 **Uh oh, papa bear is mad. I don't feel any sympathy for Amyot though...the bastard! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this short chapter. Please let me know what you think! Take care all :)**

 **Cindy**


	11. Chapter 11 - Athos and Amyot

**Wow, such a huge and welcome response to the last chapter! Those chapters are my favorite chapters to write...the brotherhood, protectiveness and comfort...such feels! Thank you so much for your kind reviews...they really make it easier and more enjoyable to write!**

 **So, Athos is going to have a little chat with Amyot in this chapter. He may be a bit on the murderous side though. Not surprising, considering. I think the Inseparables are realizing just how much our Gascon means to them. We already knew, but it took a bit for them to catch on. Just a warning...there be swear words in this chapter. Anyway, I'll let you get to it!**

Chapter 11 – Athos and Amyot

Athos stood at the locked door, the key to the room held tightly in his hand. He took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart then looked at the only thing separating him from the man whom he wished to rip apart, piece by piece. He wanted to hurt him, to make Amyot feel the pain that he had forced upon d'Artagnan. He wanted to kill him, ever so slowly, for the nightmares the young Gascon was now suffering with, and probably would be for weeks, or months to come. He wanted so much to end the pathetic excuse of a man, but he couldn't do that. Amyot had to be taken before the King where his crimes could be acknowledged and his punishment doled out. Death would come soon enough, but Athos wished it could be by his hand. He shook his head and cursed silently to himself. Wish as he may, it was not his place to exact final punishment upon the man since his crimes weren't just against d'Artagnan, but of France itself. That being said, it didn't mean that Athos couldn't cause some pain and he smiled coldly as he unlocked the door and entered the dark room.

Amyot still lay on his side, but he was now awake, his body trembling. Athos then remembered the musket hole in the man's shoulder and smiled at the thought that they had all forgotten that maybe it would need to be treated. In due time, Athos thought as he stepped up to stand over the man. He glared down at Amyot, who had turned his head so he could look up at the musketeer. The man smiled when he saw the rage simmering in Athos' eyes. "Is the brat dead yet?" he asked, his smile turning to a sneer when Athos growled low in his throat.

"No. The boy is strong and will make a full recovery," Athos said, his hands fisted at his sides.

"The boy is nothing…a weak, blubbering pig," Amyot spat.

"Yet he managed to shoot you and save us, all while injured and shackled to the wall," Athos stated, his voice filled with pride.

"Only because of the traitor, Jean. He will pay for his betrayal."

"He is now under the protection of the King's musketeers. No harm will come to him," Athos calmly said.

Amyot chuckled, then coughed when the movement made the pain flare in his shoulder. "You have no idea the extent of my reach, musketeer! Jean will pay…the boy will pay…France will pay!" he hissed.

"I know much more than you could possibly imagine, Amyot. You have lost and you will pay for your crimes, as will your co-conspirators," Athos said as he moved around the man and lifted him at the shoulders. He dragged Amyot across the room until he was leaning against the barrel on the platform that d'Artagnan had been knelt upon.

"How could you possibly know anything, musketeer?" Amyot breathlessly asked.

"That is not your business and it is not why I have come here," Athos replied.

Amyot glared up at the man. "Why have you come then? Your little puppy perhaps?" he sneered.

The backhand the man received whipped his head around and he could not contain the cry of pain. When he turned his head back to the front, he was met with Athos' face mere inches from his. "When you speak of d'Artagnan, you will speak with respect!" Athos hissed.

Amyot laughed as he wiped blood from his chin where it had dripped down from the split in his lip that Athos' strike had caused. "Respect for that insignificant whelp?" he spat. "He is a weak, sniveling coward who screams at the slightest touch! Amazing how low the musketeers have sunk to allow such vermin into their ranks."

Athos drew back, willing himself to remain calm. "d'Artagnan is stronger than you could ever hope to be. He is a man of honor and infinite loyalty," he drawled. "Something you would know nothing about."

"If he means so much to you, why did you continue on to deliver your letter rather than come to his rescue? You had to know what would happen to him, yet you allowed me nearly two days alone with him. Of course, he said that he is not a musketeer so maybe that is why, hmm? Maybe his life isn't important until he is commissioned?" Amyot said. He smiled when he saw the emotions that swirled through Athos' eyes.

White hot rage filled Athos, but he would not let this man see it. He knew that he was just as responsible for what had happened to d'Artagnan as the man before him was, but at least his part was from a sense of duty that he knew the Gascon understood. He glared at the man, then smiled. "d'Artagnan is a musketeer in all but title. He has proven himself more than worthy to carry the honor by his actions while under your interrogations," he said. "The fact that he told you nothing is all that I need to know, and his majesty, King Louis will be made fully aware of how his best recruit handled himself."

Amyot scoffed at Athos' words. "He didn't tell me about the letter because he didn't know, that I am sure of. He was not important enough to be given such information. If he had known, he would have spilled his guts right away. You merely had him with you so that if you were set upon, you could give him up to hopefully gain yourselves a chance to reach your courier. Why else would you send him ahead, alone and unprotected? Was the letter so important that you were willing to sacrifice your puppy?"

Without warning, Athos lunged forward and dug is finger into the hole that d'Artagnan's musket had left in Amyot's shoulder. The man howled in pain as Athos pressed deeper inside. "Do you want to know about the letter, Amyot?" he hissed as he delighted in the screams of pain from his prisoner. "Do you want to know what brought you and your entire operation down? What was so important that now all of your men are dead, and your fellow conspirators will be soon enough? Do you want to fucking know?!"

Amyot glared up at him, his teeth clenched as the musketeer continued to press into his wound. Athos smiled at his silence and continued. "The letter was nothing! A blank piece of parchment…a trap set for your spy in the court. It has been thought for some time now that there was a spy, and that person's identity was suspected, but something was needed to confirm that suspicion. If the messengers of the "important" letter were attacked and the letter was not delivered, then all would be known. The letter was delivered though, and the courier made aware that an attack had happened. My guess is that word of the attack has very nearly reached Paris and soon your spy will be imprisoned and waiting for you to join him."

"You lie, musketeer!" Amyot snapped.

"Do I?" Athos queried. "How do I know about your spy then? All of this for a blank piece of paper. How does it feel to be so thoroughly disgraced?" he added as he pulled his finger from Amyot's shoulder wound.

Amyot gasped and nearly lost consciousness, but finally, after several deep breaths, he looked up at the musketeer and grinned. "You abandoned your puppy for a blank letter," he said. "Was it worth it knowing he will bear the scars for the rest of his pathetic, meaningless life?"

"d'Artagnan fulfilled his duty, as did I. He will recover, fully, and you will be executed for your crimes."

Amyot, knowing that he was defeated and would surely be dead within the week, decided he had nothing to lose. He would inflict as much pain as he could before he left this world. He glared up at the musketeer and smiled once again. "Do you want to know what I had planned next for your puppy?" he asked gleefully. "It gets lonely here for the men…far away from their women. Someone as pretty as your puppy would make a perfect plaything, hmm? Though, maybe you and your men already know this? Maybe that is why someone such as him was allowed to become a recruit at all. Maybe he…"

Amyot was not allowed to continue with his vile words as a fist slammed into his mouth. He reeled back, his head slamming into the barrel of water behind him. Before he could recover enough to know what had happened, two hands closed over his throat and began to squeeze. He gasped for air, but it was of no use, the grip on his throat was too strong. He struggled against his attacker, but with his arms and legs restrained and his air cut off, he quickly weakened. His vision faded and he was aware that these would be his last moments alive. Suddenly, however, the hands around his neck were gone and he sucked in large, painful breaths. He could hear voices, but the blood rushing through his ears like waves kept him from hearing what they said. He took several more deep breaths and tried to rise, but his vision blackened and he fell into the deep abyss of unconsciousness.

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Porthos glanced over his shoulder as he walked through the doorway of the infirmary. Aramis was fussing over d'Artagnan, checking his wounds and changing his bandages, taking advantage of the boy's drugged slumber. Porthos did not wish to leave his friends, but Aramis had remembered that their prisoner had been badly wounded and would need to be fixed up, at least enough so that he would survive long enough to face the King. Since the medic was needed to take care of their Gascon, Porthos had been instructed, politely, to go down and not only make sure that Athos hadn't killed the man, but to bring the prisoner to the infirmary for treatment.

"Should just let the bastard suffer for what he did," Porthos hissed under his breath as he turned to make his way to the tunnel beneath the manor.

Several minutes later found Porthos just nearing the room in which d'Artagnan had been tortured. What he heard when he reached the door made his blood boil. He came through the door just as Athos flung himself at Amyot, his fist slamming into the helpless man's face. Porthos had no time to really register what had happened before Athos' hands had closed around the prisoner's throat. Porthos stood in the doorway for several moments, perfectly happy to watch his brother end the man who had caused so much pain to their Gascon, but then Aramis' voice sounded in his head, and as much as he tried to fight against it, the voice won out in the end and the large man rushed forward and dragged Athos off of Amyot.

"What the hell are you doing!?" Athos screamed as he fought against Porthos' hold.

"I'm keepin' you from makin' the biggest mistake of yer life!" Porthos shouted back. "'e 'as to go before the King, Athos!"

Athos struggled further, but then the fight went out of him and he sagged back against the bigger musketeer. "If you had heard what he was saying…I…"

"I 'eard 'im and believe me, I would love for you to kill the fucker. Hell, I want to kill 'im myself, but we can't," Porthos said.

"Louis could be told that we had no choice," Athos said.

"I 'ear ya, Athos, but this scum needs to go before the King. It ain't up to us to render 'is punishment…no matter how much we want to."

Athos sighed and watched as Amyot tried to lift himself, only to fall back and go limp on the platform. "Why are you here, Porthos?" he finally asked once the bigger musketeer had let loose of him.

Porthos looked upon the unconscious Amyot with disgust before meeting his friend's gaze. "Aramis sent me. He remembered that Amyot had been shot and would need treatment if he were to reach Paris alive," he answered. "He wants me to bring him to the infirmary."

"No!" Athos cried. "He will not go to the infirmary where d'Artagnan is. If Aramis wishes to treat him, he will have to do it somewhere else. I will not put d'Artagnan through the pain of seeing this piece of shit."

Porthos nodded as he gave his friend a quick grin. "Fine…I'll take him to another room where Aramis can work on him," he said.

"Fine," Athos hissed. He stood back as Porthos went to the unconscious man and roughly dragged him over his shoulder. Amyot groaned in pain, but did not awaken, not even when his head knocked into the door frame when Porthos stepped into the narrow passageway outside of the room. "Oops," Porthos uttered, a deep grin on his face when he met Athos' eyes.

When they reached the door at the top of the stairs and went through to Amyot's room, they considered leaving him there, but quickly decided that it was too lush and comfortable for what the man deserved. They searched a few rooms in the hallway near the infirmary and found one room with a small cot that would do. Porthos deposited Amyot on the cot then turned to Athos.

"Is 'e gonna be alive once I send Aramis back down 'ere?"

Athos rolled his eyes at this friend and nodded his head. "I will not touch the man," he drawled. Porthos watched him for a few moments, then tipped his head and left the room. A few minutes later, Aramis came into the room with a tray that held bandages and rags. He looked at his friend, then at the man on the cot. He could see bruises forming on the man's neck and blood covering his face. He looked at Athos and raised a brow when the musketeer looked back.

"He said some things. Pissed me off," Athos said with a shrug.

"Well, you can fill me in once you go fetch me water and wine so I can clean his wound. I'm not sure if the musket ball is still in there, but if it is, the bleeding may start anew," Aramis said.

"The ball is still in there," Athos said matter of factly.

"Oh? Did you check for an exit wound?" Aramis queried.

"No, I felt it when I went exploring," Athos answered.

"Athos," Aramis said with a slight scowl.

"Don't, Aramis…just, don't," Athos snapped before turning and walking from the room.

Aramis sighed as he made his way to the man's bedside. Amyot was pale and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Aramis set the tray he had brought on a small table beside the cot then pulled up the one chair in the room. "Don't think I'm going to be gentle with you…not after what you put d'Artagnan through," he whispered as he began to inspect the man's injuries. "I only need you to live long enough to kneel before the King," he added as he sat back to await Athos' return.

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By the time Aramis had the wound in Amyot's shoulder clean enough to attempt to remove the musket ball, the prisoner was panting and gasping and near delirious with pain. When Athos had returned and told the marksman what Amyot had said he had planned to do with d'Artagnan, Aramis had lost any empathy for the man he'd had and even informed Athos that he had been too easy on him. With the wound now clean, the medic took a narrow instrument he had found in the infirmary and began to dig for the musket ball, eliciting a loud scream from the man on the cot. He felt a sense of satisfaction at the sound that was completely opposite of his usual demeanor in such instances, even when working on an enemy. He did not enjoy inflicting pain, but in this case, the more the better. Athos watched his friend work, and though he secretly delighted in hearing Amyot scream, the look in Aramis' eyes bothered him. He understood how the marksman felt, for he too felt it, but it wasn't like his friend to get enjoyment from causing pain. It spoke to just how deeply they felt about their young Gascon friend. When Athos had returned to the infirmary to get the water and wine that Aramis had asked for, he'd found Porthos holding d'Artagnan's hand and whispering to him, which was something Porthos did not normally do, no matter who it was who was hurt. The large musketeer had seemed somewhat embarrassed by being caught, but he hadn't let go of the boy's hand either. Athos smiled at the memory, then returned his attention to scene in front of him.

"Do you require my help?" Athos asked as he moved toward his friend.

Aramis glanced up and frowned. "A gag would be nice…or a hand over his mouth," he said with a shrug.

"Yes, well, maybe if you dig a bit deeper he'll pass out," Athos drawled.

As if on cue, Amyot gasped one more time, then fell limp against the cot. Athos looked down at him in alarm then turned his gaze to the medic. "Is he still breathing?" he asked.

Aramis put his hand near the unconscious man's mouth and waited. "Yes, he still lives," he answered. "At least I can get him done without listening to him."

Athos nodded and moved to the other side of the cot, ready to assist Aramis if needed. It was an hour later when Aramis tied off the last stitch and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's done," he said.

Athos glanced at his friend and nodded. "Good. Now let's tie his ankles and wrists to the cot and be done with him for now."

Aramis cut four lengths of the bandages he had used and handed two to Athos. He was just finishing securing Amyot's wrist to the cot near his hip when he glanced up, his breath catching in his throat. At the sound, Athos looked up too and followed Aramis' gaze. Standing in the doorway, his arm wrapped around his middle and supported by an exasperated Porthos was d'Artagnan. His eyes were glued to the man on the cot and a look that neither Athos nor Aramis recognized was on his pale face. Athos stood and faced the two men in the doorway.

"d'Artagnan?" he tentatively asked as he continued to watch the young man.

d'Artagnan finally looked up at his friend. "I…I just had to see," he said, his voice weak and shaky. He turned back to look at the man who had caused him so much pain and swallowed deeply, then before anyone could react, his knees gave out and he fell toward the floor. Athos rushed forward as Aramis came up off his chair, but it was Porthos who kept the Gascon from hitting the floor. By the time all three musketeers had their hands on the young man, he was out like a light.

 **That's it for now. I am off work the rest of the week so won't be able to start on the next chapter until next week. I will try to get it up by the end of the week. I hope you liked this chapter and really hope you'll let me know if you did :) Take care!**

 **Cindy**


	12. Chapter 12 - Going Home

**I know, I know...it's been too long! With being on vacation, then last week catching up on all of the work that built up, plus events going on, I could not find much time to work on this chapter. I did get some of it done, then finished the rest today. I hope that it makes up for the long wait. Thanks for reading!**

Chapter 12 – Going Home

Athos watched d'Artagnan with a critical and concerned eye. They were beginning their journey home to Paris today despite it being only four days since they had found their youngest at death's door. The three Inseparables thought it was too soon for their young Gascon friend, but he was insistent that they leave so they could see Amyot's sentence, whatever that may be, carried out. It seemed incredibly important to the young man and none of the musketeers could bring themselves to deny him, especially after his collapse in the doorway of the room where Aramis had worked on Amyot. Athos thought back on that day and shuddered at the memory.

 _Aramis cut four lengths of the bandages he had used and handed two to Athos. He was just finishing securing Amyot's wrist to the cot near his hip when he glanced up, his breath catching in his throat. At the sound, Athos looked up too and followed Aramis' gaze. Standing in the doorway, his arm wrapped around his middle and supported by an exasperated Porthos was d'Artagnan. His eyes were glued to the man on the cot and a look that neither Athos nor Aramis could recognize was on his pale face. Athos stood and faced the two men in the doorway._

" _d'Artagnan?" he tentatively asked as he continued to watch the young man._

 _d'Artagnan finally looked up at his friend. "I…I just had to see," he said, his voice weak and shaky. He turned back to look at the man who had caused him so much pain and swallowed deeply, then before anyone could react, his knees gave out and he fell toward the floor. Athos rushed forward as Aramis came up off his chair, but it was Porthos who kept the Gascon from hitting the floor. By the time all three musketeers had their hands on the young man, he was out like a light._

 _Porthos lifted his friend with little effort and carried him back to the infirmary with Athos and Aramis trailing close behind, the fear for their youngest clearly written on all three musketeer's faces. Once Porthos had laid the unconscious Gascon back in his bed, Aramis had dropped to his side to check him over before letting out a relived breath._

" _He is fine…just over extended himself by being on his feet too soon," Aramis said before glancing up at Porthos. "Why was he on his feet?" he asked with a sharpness to his tone that surprised not only Porthos, but Athos as well._

" _I tried to keep him settled, but when he heard that Amyot was just down the hall, he fought to get up," Porthos explained. "I…"_

" _How did he know that Amyot was down the hall?" Athos queried as he made his way to d'Artagnan's bedside._

 _Porthos glanced at the swordsman and shrugged. "Etienne came in, asked where you two were. I told 'im what 'ad happened in the tunnel and what Amyot 'ad said. I didn't know the whelp was awake…'e 'eard it all," he answered._

" _Dammit," Athos swore under his breath. "I never wanted d'Artagnan to know what Amyot had planned for him."_

 _Porthos nodded as he glanced guiltily down at the Gascon. "Anyway, Etienne went white and left and when I turned around, d'Artagnan was tryin' to get outa bed. I tried to get 'im to lay back down, but 'e wasn't havin' any of it and I was afraid if I fought 'im, 'e would injure 'imself further. I couldn't very well punch 'im to keep 'im there and it seemed important to 'im to see the bastard, so I 'elped him up and, well, you know the rest," he explained._

 _Athos opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the sound of d'Artagnan awakening. Three pairs of eyes watched as the Gascon's eyes fluttered open and looked owlishly up at his friends. "Wha' happened?" he asked in a hoarse voice._

" _What happened is, you decided to get out of bed when you had no business to," Athos snapped a bit more harshly than he had intended. He sighed when he saw the hurt in the young man's eyes and dropped to his knees beside the bed. "You scared us, d'Artagnan. We thought that maybe…"_

"' _m sorry, 'thos. I…I had to see…to make sure he…," d'Artagnan stammered, his body beginning to tremble, his eyes taking on a faraway look._

 _Athos took the young man's hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. When d'Artagnan finally met his gaze, he smiled sadly. "He is not going to hurt you again, d'Artagnan. We will not let that happen. I know that we failed you before, but we are here now. Please trust us to keep you safe," he pleaded._

 _d'Artagnan's eyes welled as he listened to his mentor. "I do trust you," he whispered. "I trust all of you. I only hope that one day you will feel the same about me."_

" _We already do," Porthos said from where he stood at the end of the bed._

 _d'Artagnan smiled even as his eyelids began to droop. "Rest," Athos instructed. "Etienne and his men will be escorting Amyot back to Paris in the morning and we will follow once you are healed enough."_

 _d'Artagnan shifted his gaze to his mentor and forced himself to stay awake. "I'll be fine to leave tomorrow," he said._

" _You let me be the judge of that," Aramis said with a grin._

" _Aramis is right," Athos said. "I know you want to be back in Paris, but you are in no shape right now to ride."_

" _I need to see him punished, Athos," d'Artagnan slurred as he stared wide-eyed up at the older man._

" _And you will. I will pen a letter to Captain Treville asking him to implore Louis to wait for our return before he exacts his punishment."_

" _But what if he won't wait?"_

 _Athos dropped his eyes and sighed. "I can't promise you that Louis will wait, but I can tell you that Treville can be quite persuasive when need be. He will do everything he can to convince the King, but if he does not succeed, you will have the knowledge that Amyot got what he deserved," he said._

" _I need to see it, Athos."_

" _I will not sacrifice your health by letting you ride too early. I'm sorry, but I can't. What good would it do if you collapse on the trip home? We must put our trust in Treville to convince Louis to wait." Athos watched the emotions playing over the Gascon's features until finally the young man nodded and closed his eyes without another word. Athos glanced at Porthos and Aramis and shook his head._

" _He'll be fine, Athos. He understands, he just wants to see with his own eyes that justice has been served," Aramis said._

" _I know, and I want him to see it, but I won't risk his health…I won't," Athos replied._

 _Silence took over as the three musketeers watched their youngest sleep. Finally, Athos stood and headed for the door._

" _Where ya goin'?" Porthos asked._

 _Athos turned and smiled tiredly. "I have a letter to write," he said._

Athos shook himself from his thoughts when Porthos called out to him that they were ready to leave. d'Artagnan watched him from atop his horse and though he looked much better than he had before, Athos could still see the lines of pain around his eyes. The Gascon sat taller in his saddle as he saw the scrutiny he was under. He lifted his chin defiantly to prove that he was fine to travel. Athos shook his head and gave the slightest of grins to his young friend.

"Stubborn whelp," Athos said under his breath as he mounted his horse and moved in position beside Jean at the front of the group. Aramis and Porthos flanked d'Artagnan behind Athos and Jean and once all were ready, they began their trip home.

They rode for most of the day, stopping once along the way to eat lunch and rest. Athos had wanted to stop sooner, but d'Artagnan had stubbornly refused, even though it was quite obvious to his companions that he was exhausted. Once they had stopped and their lunch had been consumed and the horses fed and watered, d'Artagnan had found it impossible to stay awake, no matter how hard he tried. He nearly toppled off the rock he had sat upon, but Porthos had been near enough to gently guide him to the soft forest floor. They allowed the Gascon an hour to sleep before waking him when it was time to move on. He had been embarrassed that he had fallen asleep, but his friends assertions that they had needed the rest as well helped eased his mind. Now, as the sky began to darken, Athos stopped and looked back at the three men behind him. Aramis had one hand on d'Artagnan's arm to keep the sagging young man steady and that was all it took for Athos to proclaim that they had done enough riding for the day.

"'m fine," d'Artagnan murmured sleepily, much to the amusement of his traveling companions.

Porthos rode ahead and whistled when he found a good spot for them to stop for the night. Athos nodded and led the rest of the group off the road to where Porthos had already dismounted his horse. Athos, Aramis and Jean dismounted as well then Athos moved to help guide d'Artagnan off his horse.

"I'll gather firewood," d'Artagnan said as he half staggered toward the treeline.

Aramis grabbed the young man and turned him to where Porthos was preparing d'Artagnan's bedroll that he had retrieved from the Gascon's saddlebags. "No, d'Artagnan, you will rest while we set up camp," he said as he helped ease the young man down on the blankets.

"I can help," d'Artagnan argued. He tried to push himself back up, but the day of riding had taken a toll and he found that he lacked the strength to do much of anything. Aramis smiled warmly at this friend and helped him to lay down.

"You sleep. I'll wake you when supper is ready," Aramis instructed as he pulled the blanket over the Gascon.

"Not a baby…stop treatin' me like one," d'Artagnan murmured even as his eyes closed. He was asleep almost the second his head hit the ground.

"No, you are definitely not a baby," Aramis whispered proudly as he stood and began preparations for their meal.

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Captain Treville stood before King Louis, his hat in his hands as he awaited the young king's decision. Cardinal Richelieu stood by the king's side, his face a stony wall of indifference. Finally, Louis looked up at the captain of the musketeers and let out a bored breath. "Captain Treville, I have read the musketeer Athos' letter and listened to your request, but I see no reason to delay this Amyot's execution just so a musketeer recruit can witness it firsthand. Is not the knowledge that the man is dead enough?"

"Your majesty, this recruit suffered greatly at the hand of the prisoner in regard to the letter that was sent and gave nothing away, just as any of my commissioned musketeers would be expected to do. I feel he has earned the pleasure of seeing his tormentor punished," Captain Treville explained, the man ignoring the derisive snort from Richelieu.

King Louis waved his hand as if shooing away a fly and met the captain's gaze. "This is highly irregular, Treville. Why should we keep this man alive any longer? He conspired against the throne and France herself. He should be punished immediately," he said airily.

"If it pleases his majesty, would it not provide a bigger show of what will happen to those who dare defy the throne if Amyot and his co-conspirators, who are only now being rounded up, are executed together in a more public setting?" Treville queried. "It will take several days to find all of the conspirators and then a such a time deemed appropriate by you, all of the men will join the spy Bertrand in death."

Richelieu rolled his eyes, but Treville ignored him as he watched the king mull over his new suggestion. He didn't have long to wait. "Captain Treville, your suggestion of a public execution of all of the conspirators, save the spy, is an interesting one," Louis began, only to be interrupted by Richelieu.

"Your majesty, an immediate execution would be the proper thing to do. It is how it has always been done," the cardinal said.

King Louis let out a huff of irritation and turned to the cardinal. "Cardinal, is it customary to interrupt his majesty when he is speaking?"

"No, your majesty, and I apologize. I was merely…"

"Silence! I will continue without any further interruption! Is that clear?"

Richelieu bowed slightly to the king then glared angrily at Treville. "Of course…please accept my humblest of apologies. I meant no disrespect."

"Fine, fine. Now, where was I?" King Louis questioned. "Oh yes…the public execution of Amyot and his co-conspirators. I think this is a wonderful idea. If there are others out there who are in the mind that they can conspire against the throne and France, this will surely be a good way to thwart those thoughts immediately. How soon do you expect all of the conspirators to be brought to Paris, Treville?"

"I would think that they should all be rounded up by weeks end, your majesty," Treville answered.

Louis nodded as he leaned back in his seat. "And when will the other musketeers return to Paris, along with your brave recruit...what is his name by the way?"

"His name is d'Artagnan, your majesty, and I would think that they should be here very soon after all of the conspirators are imprisoned in the Chatelet," Treville replied.

"Very well, " Louis said. "If your musketeers have not returned by the time all of the conspirators have been detained, I will give them two days after to appear. If at that time they have not returned to Paris, the enemies of the throne will be executed in the square for all to see."

Treville bowed before the king, a smile curling his lips at his victory. When he stood straight again, the smile was gone. "Thank you, your majesty. Your foresight is commendable," he said.

"Yes, well, that is why I am the King," Louis said. "Now, all of this nonsense has left me tired. I will retire to my rooms for the rest of the morning," he added as he rose from his ornate chair.

Treville bowed once more as he watched the king and his attendants leave the great hall. Once the king was gone, Richelieu sneered at the captain of the musketeers and made his way to stand before the shorter man.

"So, Treville, once again you think your musketeers, and now recruits, hold more importance than they should. Why should the execution of a traitor such as Amyot be held up just so your recruit d'Artagnan can see him executed? It's highly irregular," the cardinal asked contemptuously.

Treville squared his shoulders and glared up at the cardinal. "Tell me, Richelieu…why did you specifically ask for my three best musketeers, not to mention my recruit, to carry out this mission? That is what is highly irregular here," he hissed. "It is no secret that you hold a particular dislike of my best men, but d'Artagnan? What is it about the young man who brought Vadim down that you don't like? He could hardly have done anything to have brought your disdain upon him."

Richelieu acted shocked by the accusation, but Treville wasn't buying it. "Captain Treville, I do not know what you are talking about. I merely asked for the best musketeers and knowing that you hold the Inseparables in the highest of regard, I knew that they were the men for the job. I asked for your recruit to be included because after Vadim, I saw that he too may some day make a musketeer to rival your three best. I thought the experience would help him in his endeavor to earn his commission," the Cardinal explained, the word Inseparables leaving his tongue as if it were a curse.

It took all of Treville's strength to not roll his eyes as he listened to the obvious lies falling from the Cardinal's mouth. "Yes, well, whatever your feelings about my men, you cannot deny that they performed their duties admirably, especially d'Artagnan. Louis saw this and chose to reward the young man accordingly."

Richelieu huffed at Treville's words, but did not speak. He turned and walked away, disappearing through a door at the east end of the hall. Treville smirked as he too turned and made his way through the palace, intent on reaching the garrison where he could disappear into his office and partake of a very much needed drink, or two. He prayed that his men would return in time to see justice done and that his newest recruit would come through his experience a stronger man. His thoughts went to what he had learned about the letter he had sent his men off to deliver. A decoy to draw out a spy that he had only just heard of. Did his men think that he knew that the letter was nothing but blank parchment? Would they believe him when he told them such? And most importantly of all, would they forgive him for putting d'Artagnan into a situation that had led to his capture and torture? Could he forgive himself?

 **So, it was Richelieu's idea to send the Inseparables and d'Artagnan. He really doesn't like those guys, huh? Bad man...very bad man. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though there wasn't a whole lot of our four musketeers. I promise there will be more of them in the next chapter. Not too much longer to go before the end. Take care!**

 **Cindy**


	13. Chapter 13 - Home

**I know I am incredibly late with this chapter. I had a re-occurrence of the flu so haven't been feeling very well plus I must admit that I lost my inspiration for this story a bit. The waiting for season 3 and not knowing for sure how it will be aired in the US has been weighing on me and I've become quite dejected. But, I would never leave a story unfinished or languishing indefinitely so I tightened my belt and told myself to get over it and get this chapter written! I'm not sure how happy I am with it, but it is what it is. Thank you for sticking with me...I truly appreciate it! So now, on with the story :)**

Chapter 13 – Home

A soft sigh escaped d'Artagnan when finally, his adopted home of Paris came into view in the distance. It had been a hard trek, painful and exhausting, but it was nearing its end and the young recruit felt relief wash over him. Paris was still some distance off and he knew that they would be stopping for one more night of sleeping beneath the stars, but that didn't stop the excitement, and trepidation from building up inside the Gascon. His hope was that Captain Treville had somehow managed to convince King Louis to hold up the execution of Amyot until they returned, but he understood that there was a bigger chance that the execution had already taken place. If that were the case, then so be it, d'Artagnan could hardly expect the King to grant a recruit he had never met such a gift. It was with this thought that d'Artagnan dropped his gaze away from the far off sight of Paris and let out another sigh. A soft pat on his leg brought his attention back up and he turned to meet the eyes of his self-appointed mother-hen, Aramis. The marksman smiled warmly when the two men's eyes met and d'Artagnan couldn't help but to return the smile with a tired smile of his own.

"We will stop here for the night," Aramis stated as he guided d'Artagnan's horse off the road to follow after Athos, Porthos and Jean, who had already reached a protected area in the trees to the right of the road.

After a whirlwind of setting up camp, preparing the evening meal and conversing around the campfire while sipping the last remnants of wine, d'Artagnan was finding it hard to keep himself awake. Athos, noticing his heavy eyelids, nudged Aramis and nodded toward the young man with a slight curl of his lip. Aramis nodded and took several ingredients from his bag and began to prepare the nightly pain draught he had been giving the Gascon to ensure a restful, pain free night of sleep. d'Artagnan didn't even fight it anymore, the young man knowing full well he was outnumbered and stood no chance what so ever against the three older men. He took the draught from Aramis and drank it down with hardly a grimace then handed he mug back to the medic without a word. Porthos, who was sat closest to d'Artagnan, helped the Gascon to crawl under his blanket, then tucked the edges under the already sleeping young man. He watched fondly for a few moments then turned to his friends and shook his head.

"Whelp needs a real bed t' sleep in," Porthos commented as he picked up his mug of wine and took a sip.

Aramis nodded his head in agreement as he too took a sip. "It will most definitely help his recovery to be off of this cold, hard ground," he said.

Athos remained silent for several minutes as he watched his protégé sleep before he finally tore his gaze away. "Once we reach Paris we will find out about Amyot and then we can see about him staying at the garrison until he is recovered enough to go back to his own bed at the Bonacieux residence."

"And if Treville will not allow for him to stay at the garrison?" Aramis queried.

"Then I suppose we will have to trust him to Madame Bonacieux," Athos replied.

Porthos gave a short chuckle as his gaze drifted to the sleeping Gascon. "I don't think either of those two would mind that one little bit," he said with a wide grin.

Aramis glanced at his friend and frowned slightly. "I don't know. He seems a bit…how do I put it…ashamed, or embarrassed maybe…about his injuries? I don't think he would want her to see him like that," he said.

Athos sat up straighter at this and looked at the medic. "Why would you think he feels that way?" he asked.

Aramis shrugged as he turned toward Athos. "He just…when I ask to check him, he seems to turn in on himself a bit I guess…like he turns himself off from me. He avoids my eyes and then when I'm done, he hurriedly pulls his shirt back down, like he's ashamed for me to see him," he answered.

"Ya don't think it's 'cause of what 'e overheard me sayin' do ya? About what Amyot said?" Porthos asked, his tone thick with guilt.

"I don't know what it is," Aramis said with a shake of his head.

"Ya don't suppose Amyot actually did…" Porthos started before Athos quickly cut him off.

"No. Amyot would have said so if he had. He would have wanted to hurt us…to hurt him more, by telling us so, no…that didn't happen." Athos' gaze returned to their youngest and renewed anger and guilt filled him at what the Gascon had gone through and what further tortures could have awaited him had they not gotten there when they did.

Aramis nodded as he too looked down at the sleeping recruit. "It could very well be about what could have happened…and the fact that we know. I'm just not sure. He seems fine, almost back to his normal self, other than when I'm checking his injuries…that's when his demeanor changes," he said.

"Should we maybe ask 'im about it?" Porthos asked as his gaze moved from one friend to the other.

Before anyone could answer, a soft, tired voice responded. "He can hear you, and he is fine." The three Inseparables immediately moved their attention to their now awake youngest and met his tired eyes.

"d'Artagnan…" Athos started, but stopped when the Gascon shook his head.

"I'm fine, Athos. I just don't like you seeing me weak. I need time," d'Artagnan said.

"We don't see you as weak. Quite the opposite actually," Aramis stated, the other two nodding their agreement.

d'Artagnan smiled sadly as he looked at each man. "Maybe it is I who sees myself as weak then," he whispered.

"Yer kiddin', right? Yer anythin' but weak, whelp," Porthos said as he reached down and gently squeezed the young man's arm.

"Porthos is right," Athos stated. "You have proven to us…to me…that I was wrong. I said that you weren't ready…I didn't think you could handle it if something like this were to happen. It was my deepest fear, you being taken and what could happen, but you…d'Artagnan…you proved me wrong. I wish with all of my heart that you could have been spared your ordeal, but the facts are the facts and you carried yourself like a true musketeer. We are proud of you, d'Artagnan…do not see yourself as anything but that," he emphatically pleaded, leaving Aramis and Porthos at a loss for words and d'Artagnan with suspiciously glistening eyes.

Finally, after several awkward moments, d'Artagnan slowly pushed himself up onto his elbow and gazed hopefully at his mentor. "Do you mean that?" he whispered as if he were afraid he had heard the man wrong.

"Of course I mean it. You handled yourself like a musketeer. I couldn't ask anything more from you," Athos replied with a small smile.

Porthos nodded, a grin stretching across his face. "Yeah, pup. We all feel the same," he said. His grin widened when d'Artagnan turned to him.

"Okay," Aramis quipped after another long silence. "I think, now that we have that all settled, we should turn in for the night if we wish to arise early to make it to Paris before mid-day."

The others nodded their assent before downing the rest of their wine and setting their cups on the ground. "I'll take first watch," Porthos said, and with respective nods, Athos and Aramis scooted into their bedrolls. Jean, who had been silent through most of the evening and the entire conversation also nodded and lay down where he sat several feet away from the rest. Porthos turned to d'Artagnan and dipped his head. The young man smiled softly then eased himself back down to the ground and closed his eyes. Porthos rested his hand on the Gascon's shoulder and d'Artagnan fell back to sleep, completely secure in the knowledge that he was safe.

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When they rode through the gates of the garrison, it was like they had been gone for ages. Musketeers and recruits alike turned as the five men entered the grounds and soon they were surrounded by men eager the help them from their mounts and hear about their adventure. Athos called a stop to the excitement though when he feared that d'Artagnan may be unnecessarily jostled. He slid from his saddle, allowing his horses reins to be taken from him, then he moved to help d'Artagnan down while Porthos and Aramis dismounted their horses. Jean remained on his mount, unsure of what he should do or if he was even welcome. Athos made sure that d'Artagnan was steady on his feet then looked up just as Captain Treville walked up to great them.

"You're back…and not a moment too soon, I might add," Treville stated as he looked his men over, his eyes landing on d'Artagnan and taking in his pale complexion.

"Sir," d'Artagnan said with a slight bow of his head. "I am sorry for our delay…that would be my fault I'm afraid."

Treville cocked his head and eyed the boy critically. "Nonsense. From what I was told, it is amazing that you are here at all," he said.

"I wished to be here, sir, for Amyot's punishment," d'Artagnan replied.

"Yes, I am aware," Treville said.

"So, did we make it in time?" Porthos asked.

"I was able to convince King Louis to hold off on Amyot's execution until all of his co-conspirators were rounded up. The last one was taken to the Chatelet last night," Treville responded. "I will send word of your return to the palace," he added as he turned to look up at the one man still mounted on his horse. "You must be Jean. I hear that a debt of gratitude is owed to you," he continued as the man nervously slid from his horse.

Jean bowed his head to the captain then straightened as he felt a soft grip on his arm. Turning his head, he smiled when he saw d'Artagnan beside him, an encouraging smile on his face. He once again faced Treville. "No debt is owed, sir. I only did what I knew to be right," he said.

Treville nodded as he motioned for the men around them to disperse. Once they were left to themselves, he turned back to Jean. "Be that as it may, we do owe you a great deal. Without you, we would have never known the full extent of the conspiracy against the throne, plus, we may not have our top recruit back to us safe and relatively sound," he explained.

"Thank you, sir. It was my duty to do what I could to keep d'Artagnan safe until help arrived," Jean said.

Treville nodded then turned to one musketeer who was standing nearby. "You…ride to the palace and make the court aware that our men have returned. Let them know that we will be there within the hour," he called. When the musketeer had rushed away to do his captain's bidding, Treville turned back to his men. "Go and freshen up. King Louis wished to see all of you upon your arrival and I don't wish to keep him waiting," he instructed.

"Me as well, sir?" Jean asked nervously as his gaze shifted from his new friends to their captain.

"Yes, you as well. The King has questions he would like answered," Treville replied before turning and walking back toward the stairs that would lead him back up to his office.

"Captain! A word please!" Athos called after Treville's retreating form. Treville stopped and turned his head, meeting his second in command's eyes.

"Can it wait until after our meeting with the King, Athos?" Treville queried with a sigh.

"I think we should get this out now," Athos replied.

Treville studied Athos, quite sure he knew what the man wished to speak to him about. He glanced at the other men then shook his head. "Word has already been sent to the palace that we would be there within the hour. We will talk once we have returned to the garrison," he said, then he turned and walked away, his men and Jean watching him go.

Athos dropped his head and took in a quick breath before looking up at his friends. "Come then, we can freshen up in my room," he said. He turned and caught the eye of one recruit and called him over.

"Sir?" the recruit queried eagerly.

"Have water…warmed and cool…brought to my room. Enough for all of us," Athos instructed. "Have some bread and cheese sent as well," he called as the recruit hurried away. The small group walked the short distance to Athos' room and disappeared inside.

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The musketeers stood in a line, Athos, Aramis then Porthos, as they waited for the King to arrive. Treville stood a few steps away, while d'Artagnan and Jean had been instructed to stand opposite the rest of the group. The Inseparables could see the effort d'Artagnan was putting in just to keep himself standing straight. They knew his shoulder and side had to be giving him much pain after all the riding he had done over the past several days. He needed a bed and about a week's worth of uninterrupted sleep, but here he was, forced to stand and wait for the King to decide to grace them with his presence. They'd been standing here, waiting, for nearly an hour and it had come to the point where Jean was now holding on to d'Artagnan's arm to give him some measure of stability. Finally, the door at the far side of the room opened and first Cardinal Richelieu walked through, following by King Louis and Queen Anne. The waiting men bowed before the King and Queen, none of them missing the soft hiss of pain coming from the Gascon. The royal couple took their seats before the gathered men, Richelieu taking his position a few arm lengths away from the King while Louis swept his gaze over the musketeers then to the two men standing opposite them.

"You there, step forward!" the King called out as his eyes settled on d'Artagnan.

d'Artagnan hesitated for only a moment before he stepped forward and bowed once again before the King. "Your majesty," the young man said as he lifted his eyes to his King.

"Are you the musketeer recruit who I have been hearing so much about of late?" King Louis queried as he studied the young man before him.

"I am, Sire," d'Artagnan answered softly.

"What is your name again? It keeps slipping my mind," Louis asked.

"My name is d'Artagnan, Sire," the Gascon replied.

"d'Artagnan…hmmm...interesting name," the King remarked. He shook his head as he looked the boy over from head to toe. "Are you well? You seem a bit pale," he asked.

"I am, your Majesty. I have been well taken care of," d'Artagnan responded.

Before the King could respond, the soft, kind voice of the Queen sounded. "I can see that you have been well taken care of, but I am sure that you have not fully recovered yet, d'Artagnan. Would you like a chair to sit on?"

d'Artagnan turned his surprised eyes to his Queen and shook his head. "Thank you, but I am fine to stand," he replied with a quick bow of his head.

Queen Anne smiled warmly and sat back in her seat as the King gave her a soft pat on the hand. "My Queen is always so concerned about her subjects," Louis said. "I have been hearing how brave you are, d'Artagnan. That even with your horrible treatment, you remained strong and loyal to your King. It is this kind of loyalty that is the backbone of the musketeers. I will be keeping my eye on you. You may step back now."

d'Artagnan did as he was told and stepped back to Jean's side. The King turned his attention to Captain Treville. "Is this the man who was with the criminal Amyot?" Louis asked as he pointed at Jean.

"It is, your Majesty," Treville responded.

Louis turned his sights on the man and eyed him critically. "Step forward!" he demanded as he leaned back in his chair.

Jean bowed his head then stepped up before the King. "Your Majesty. It is a great honor to stand before you," Jean said in a low, shaky voice.

"What is your name?" Louis asked.

"Jean Pierre Biguad, your Majesty," Jean replied.

Louis narrowed his eyes as he watched the man before him. "How did you come to throw yourself in with the group of criminals and bandits led by Amyot? Explain to me how you came to know so much about his plans," he said.

Jean swallowed nervously, but stood tall before the King. "My cousin introduced me. I listened to Amyot and at first he wasn't man he has become today. We were a group trying to make comfortable lives for our families. When he began to talk about rebellions and others who held his views who wished to do harm to the throne, I wasn't sure at first what I could do, but I knew I had to do something. I went along with his rantings and I secretly listened and spied on private meetings. I wrote down everything that I heard, hoping that some day I would be able to break free from Amyot and warn the court," he explained.

"How long were you with Amyot and his band of criminals?" Cardinal Richelieu asked from his spot near the King.

Jean startled at the question and turned to the Cardinal. "Two years, your Eminence," he replied.

"Two years? You were with that man for two years and you never spoke up about what was going on?" Louis cried indignantly. "How can I believe that you weren't with him that long because you believed in what he was doing?"

"Your Majesty…Amyot was very strict. He kept a very close eye on all of his men. Nobody went anywhere without someone else with them. We were watched at all times. We weren't even allowed to visit our families. M-my cousin…he snuck away one night, to see his fiancé, but…Amyot found out. My cousin disappeared and I never saw him again. I had to wait for the opportunity to get away."

King Louis considered the man's words then turned to Richelieu. The Cardinal gave a minute nod and the King turned back to the man before him. "I cannot believe that for two years you merely collected evidence of a conspiracy against the throne. What I see is a man attempting to save himself," Louis said.

d'Artagnan's eyes widened at the King's words, fear filling his heart at what he knew was coming next. Jean stood tall before him, but d'Artagnan could see the slight trembling of his hands as they hung at his sides. The Gascon tried to speak, but the King's words cut off anything he may have said.

"For your crimes against the throne, you will hang with Amyot and the other conspirators, tomorrow in the public square," King Louis proclaimed.

Athos immediately snapped his head toward his protégé, willing the young man to remain silent, but knowing that it would never happen. He was more than terrified when d'Artagnan staggered forward to stand next to Jean.

"Your Majesty! Please do not do this! This man saved my life! He risked his own safety to help me as best he could. He gave the names of all of the conspirators! Without him, only Amyot would be paying for his actions!" d'Artagnan pleaded, the young man hunched over as the pain from his injuries flared.

"Silence! How dare you question your King! I have made my decision!" Louis bellowed.

Treville could feel his men tense behind him and looked up at the smug face of Richelieu. Undoubtedly, this was his doing and the captain could barely contain his anger. He turned his attention to his young recruit when the young man spoke again.

"My apologies to his Majesty, but I must proclaim this man's innocence! He is nothing but loyal to the throne and to France! This is not an act to save himself. He came here willingly…knowing that this could be the outcome. Please, Sire, do not do this," d'Artagnan cried, dark eyes staring imploringly at his king.

The Inseparables could do nothing but watch as d'Artagnan pleaded for Jean. They knew he was walking a thin line and it filled their hearts with fear at what the outcome could be. Athos took one step forward, words already forming on his tongue, but a quick look from Treville had him stepping back beside his brothers, his blue eyes turning to his protégé. The young man was barely keeping himself upright and it was all Athos could do to keep himself from rushing to the Gascon's side. He swept his gaze to the King when Louis spoke.

"He will be executed along with his leader. There is nothing left to say in this matter," Louis coldly said.

The three musketeers dropped their heads at the King's words, all of them knowing what Jean's death would do to d'Artagnan. It was the Gascon's next words that had their blood freezing in their veins.

"Then punish me in his place. I owe him my life and I cannot stand by and watch him die knowing what he did for me!" d'Artagnan cried.

"No, d'Artagnan! Don't do this!" Jean cried, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the young man beside him.

"You do not deserve to die, Jean," d'Artagnan said, his eyes never leaving Louis.

Aramis and Porthos gasped at their young friends words, but Athos…Athos was struck dumb by the new developments. He could only stare at the young man, his mouth open, but unable to utter even the slightest sound. Treville looked up at Richelieu and saw the delighted look that passed over the Cardinals face before he quickly schooled himself. Had Richelieu expected this to be the outcome? Had he hoped that d'Artagnan would offer himself up to save the man who had saved him? Or was this just an unexpected bonus for the man. The entire court was silent as the Queen leaned forward and whispered into the King's ear. Queen Anne leaned back, her kind eyes moving to watch d'Artagnan as he stared up at the King, waiting for his decision.

King Louis stood and walked to the edge of the raised floor that he and his queen's thrones sat upon. He gazed down at the two men before him and tilted his head to the side. "You would hang for this man? Freely give your life so that he may live?" Louis queried.

"I would, your Majesty," d'Artagnan answered.

"And what of your King and Queen? Would you do the same for us?" the King asked.

d'Artagnan forced himself upright with a strength even he didn't know he possessed and faced Louis with his head held high. Sweat beaded on his lip and forehead and his body trembled with exhaustion, but he stood tall and strong before the King. "In a heartbeat, your Majesty," he said with all of the conviction he could muster.

King Louis matched d'Artagnan's stance as he contemplated the Gascon's words. He took the two steps down from the raised platform and stood before his young recruit. "And you truly believe that this man has only good intentions?" he asked.

"I do, Sire."

Louis glanced over at the man beside d'Artagnan, then returned his gaze to the Gascon. "You truly are a brave man, d'Artagnan. I will spare your friend, but if a reward is expected for him, none will be given," Louis proclaimed.

d'Artagnan sagged with relief and smiled brightly at the King. "Thank you, your Majesty!"

"Yes, well, I cannot have my top musketeer recruit hanging in the public square now can I?" Louis said. "Go now before you fall at my feet," he added before he turned and ascended to his throne once more.

The three Inseparables wasted no time in rushing to their young friend's side and ushering he and Jean from the room. Treville glared up at Richelieu and sent him a smug look before he followed his men from the room. d'Artagnan was held firmly, yet gently between Athos and Porthos as they walked while Aramis carefully watched from where he and Jean trailed behind. Treville thanked God in Heaven that on this day, King Louis was in a giving mood, because the situation they had just left behind could have had a completely different outcome. Had the King decided on a whim to grant d'Artagnan his wish of taking Jean's place, Treville knew just by the way the Inseparables now acted toward their young friend that they would never get over losing him.

 **That's it for now. I'm thinking one or two more chapters left on this one and I will try as hard as I can to get it to you as quickly as possible. First of the month is fast approaching though so my time will be limited. Thank you again for reading! Take care :)**

 **Cindy**


	14. Chapter 14 - Justice for the Gascon

**Hi all. What a crazy few weeks! I really tried to ge this chapter done earlier, but work would not allow it. I started it and worked on it when I could, but finally found time today to complete this chapter. Thank you to all who have stuck with me, and a special thank you to those who have taken the time to leave me comments. They truly do inspire me to continue. Anyway, I'll just let you get to the chapter...just the Epilogue left to go! Enjoy :)**

 **Cindy**

Chapter 14 – Justice for the Gascon

Athos cast one last look over his shoulder as he stood in the doorway of his apartment. Aramis sat next to the bed, now occupied with one stubborn Gascon, while Porthos stood at the foot, ready to help in any way he could. Jean was keeping watch at the fireplace as a kettle of water sat warming in its coals. He did not want to leave his friends, and he especially didn't want to leave his protégé, but he needed answers. Answers that only Captain Treville could supply. He looked up from the silent figure in the bed and met Porthos' gaze. The large man gave a small nod, which Athos returned before he stepped into the hall and quietly shut the door behind him. He descended the stairs and soon found himself navigating the well known streets on his way to the garrison. In less than ten minutes he found himself stood outside of Treville's office. He took a deep, steadying breath before he knock twice on the door. At Treville's call to enter, Athos pushed the door open and stepped into the captains office.

Treville looked up from the paperwork he had spread before him on his desk and met Athos' icy stare. "I was wondering when you would show up," the captain said as he folded his arms on the desk, awaiting Athos' response.

"Then I suppose you know why I'm here?" Athos queried as he moved to stand on the other side of the desk.

Treville gave a short nod and motioned for Athos to pull up a chair, only to sigh when the swordsman refused. "How is d'Artagnan?" he asked.

"Sleeping now. Aramis is taking care of him, with the help of Porthos and Jean," Athos answered coolly.

"Will he be well enough to attend the hanging tomorrow?"

"I would pity any person who tried to stand in his way and keep him from going," Athos answered. "Nothing will keep him from watching Amyot pay for what he's done."

Treville nodded again and let out a long breath. "Just make sure that he doesn't extend himself too far. From what I was told and can see with my own eyes, the boy has been through hell. I do not wish for him to further hurt himself by not allowing himself the rest he needs."

Athos studied his captain, looking for what he wasn't sure. "So, you care about his wellbeing?" he finally asked.

Treville seemed genuinely shocked by the question and he leaned forward as he narrowed his eyes at Athos. "Of course I care about d'Artagnan's wellbeing. What kind of a question is that?" he asked incredulously.

Athos bit back a retort and dropped his head to calm himself. After a few moments, he looked up and met his captain's gaze. "Why did you send d'Artagnan with us on this mission? It is highly irregular to send a new recruit on something like this."

"I sent him because I had faith…"

"Don't lie to me, Captain! I've known you for too many years! Tell me the truth!" Athos spat.

Treville sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "Fine. I sent him because Richelieu specifically asked for him to accompany my three best men on this mission," the captain answered.

Athos tilted his head and stared at Treville with confusion. "Why would Richelieu request d'Artagnan? The Cardinal doesn't normally bother himself with musketeer recruits," he asked.

Treville shrugged at the question. "I don't know, Athos. Maybe the whole Vadim affair caused him to take a closer look at our Gascon," he answered.

Athos shook his head against that response. "No, Richelieu would not seek to reward a musketeer recruit. There is something else going on here," he said.

"Athos, I don't know what to tell you. Richelieu asked that you, Porthos and Aramis personally handle this mission and he wanted d'Artagnan to accompany you," Treville said.

"And you agreed? Just like that?"

"No, I didn't. I told Richelieu that it wasn't a good idea…that you three could complete the mission on your own. He insisted."

Athos watched the captain for several moments before he spoke again. "Did you know that we carried a blank letter? That we were pawns in trying to draw out a spy?"

Treville stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of his man. "No. I did not know anything about that. I truly thought that you carried a letter that urgently needed to be delivered safely. I would have told you, Athos, if I had known," he answered fervently.

"Are you sure?" Athos asked coolly.

"What are you getting at?" Treville asked angrily. "Do I not care for my men? Stand up for them even when Richelieu fights to degrade them? How dare you insinuate that I would purposely put my men at risk by keeping something like this from them!"

"d'Argagnan could have been killed! Would have been if we had been unable to reach him in time! As it is, he was tortured horribly, and yet he held his tongue, like a true musketeer!" Athos shouted. "Forgive me if I question the man who sent us out, insisting that we take a recruit along for the ride!"

Treville took a deep breath to calm himself before he looked Athos straight in the eyes. "I did not know, Athos. I only found out when Etienne showed up here with your letter and Amyot. When I questioned the Cardinal, he acted as if it was an oversight that I was not told of the true reason for the mission."

Athos seemed to deflate at Treville's words. He felt remorse at what he accused his captain of, but he also felt justified in wanting to know the truth. "I'm sorry, Captain for my accusations, but…I had to know," he finally said.

"I know, Athos. I understand, but just know that I would never keep something of such importance from you. Never." Treville rested his hand on Athos' shoulder and gently squeezed. Athos returned the gesture then moved to sit in the chair that his captain had earlier offered. He watched as Treville went back around his desk and took a seat.

"It seems that Richelieu's hatred of us has extended to d'Artagnan. He had to have known that there was a high possibility of us being attacked…why else would he ask for us specifically, d'Artagnan included?" Athos queried.

Treville shook his head as he contemplated Athos' remark. "I don't know, and he isn't going to talk if I ask," he said.

"You don't think that he is somehow involved, do you? Could he have known that Amyot would attack…or worse…instructed him to do so?" Athos asked worriedly.

"I highly doubt that. Whatever Richelieu is, his love of France and desire to keep her safe is without measure. He would not conspire with conspirators," Treville responded.

"Maybe not in the plot against the crown and France, but…"

"No," Treville interrupted. "He would not work with enemies of the throne."

Athos eyed his captain, then nodded. "Then I can only surmise that he hoped we would be attacked along the way. His insistence that d'Artagnan accompany us only makes me think that more. The fact that we have taken him under our wings has put a target on his back," he said.

Treville leaned forward and cleared his throat. What he was about to say was not going to make the musketeer happy, but it needed to be said. "Forgive me, Athos, but I don't know if that is the reason for the Cardinal's interest in d'Artagnan."

"And why do you say that?" Athos queried as he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"While it is true that you have taken our Gascon's training quite seriously…it doesn't appear that your interest went any further than the garrison. At least not before all of this happened," Treville explained.

Treville watched as something akin to guilt crept over his best musketeer's face, though Athos was quick to school his features before responding. "I don't know what you mean, Captain," he said coolly.

"I mean, at the end of the training day, you, Porthos and Aramis would, the majority of the time, leave and d'Artagnan would be left on his own. I noticed on several occasions the look of want and disappointment on his face as he watched you leave without a single word to him. He wished to be included in more than just your training, Athos, and I…well…I believe him to be a perfect fit with the three of you. Maybe that is why I didn't fight any harder than I did when Richelieu asked for him to go with you to Orleans. I did think…or hoped…that maybe the time together, outside of the garrison, would bring you all closer to him. Would make you see d'Artagnan as more than just a recruit you needed to train." Treville explained.

"He was always welcome to come with us at the end of the day. He chose not to…that isn't on us," Athos defended.

"Did he know that he was welcome?" Treville asked.

"Did we ever actually invite him?" Athos queried. "No, we didn't, except for maybe a few times, but we didn't think we needed to either. The way he came into our lives…ready to fight me to avenge his father…I highly doubt he would be shy about asking to accompany us in the evenings."

Treville gave a quick shake of his head and smiled slightly at Athos. "Athos, when he first appeared in our midst, he had an agenda…a reason. His father had been murdered. When it all came to an end and he knew the truth, that hatred he had of you was replaced by a deep respect. He is in awe of you three, especially you, and with his youth and the grief he still has to be going through, he probably would never consider requesting to go along with you. The fact that he was rarely invited was probably enough to make him think that he was only seen as a recruit and nothing more. The boy is extremely vulnerable, despite his bravado," he explained.

When Athos remained silent, Treville stood and walked around his desk. He looked down at Athos and smiled. "Go, check on the boy. Tomorrow morning will come quicker than you think. I'll see you in the square," he commanded.

Athos merely nodded and stood from his chair. He dipped his head in goodbye as he stepped out onto the balcony. As he walked back toward his apartments, Treville's words played over and over in his mind. When he thought back on things, he could now see that the man's words rang true and he swore to himself that he make things right with d'Artagnan. When he reached his apartments he hurried up the stairs and pushed open the door. The scene before him made him stop and smile. Porthos sat in a chair at the small table in the room, his head hung low as he snored. Jean was curled up on his coat on the floor near the fireplace while Aramis still sat next to the bed, his fingers brushing gently over d'Artagnan's bare arm. At the sound of Athos clearing his throat, Aramis turned and met his gaze.

"So, what did Treville say?" the medic asked as he stood and met his friend in the middle of the room. Porthos, ever attentive, even in sleep, awoke at Aramis' voice. He stood and walked to stand next to the others.

"He didn't know about the letter, or the spy," Athos said. "He also said that Richelieu specifically asked for us, d'Artagnan included, to carry the letter."

"But why?" Porthos queried. "Us I can understand, but the whelp? Why 'im?"

Athos shook his head as he met the bigger man's eyes. "I don't know…neither does Treville. He seems to think that Richelieu holds something other than d'Artagnan's association with us against the boy, though for the life I me I can't think of what it could be."

"Well, that's disturbing," Aramis said as he turned to look at the young man asleep in the bed. "We will need to keep a close eye on him if Richelieu has his sights set on him," he added.

"Yes, we will," Athos said as he moved around his friends and too the chair that Aramis had vacated. He looked up when Aramis and Porthos came to stand beside the bed. "You two get some sleep. I'll watch over the boy. I know there is nothing that will keep him away from the hanging in the morning so we need to watch him throughout the night to make sure that he gets the rest he needs."

The two musketeers nodded as the moved across the room. "Wake me if he seems to worsen," Aramis instructed. "And if he doesn't, wake me in four hours so I can relieve you."

Athos nodded his agreement then turned his attention to the sleeping Gascon. As the afternoon, then evening wore on, he thought about how he had failed the young man and how he would make sure that he never did again. Later, when he could no longer keep his eyes open, he awakened Aramis and took the medics spot on the floor. Tomorrow would be a long, trying day, especially for d'Artagnan and they all needed to be rested so they could deal with whatever the day would bring.

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The mist of early morning was nearly burned off as the musketeers and their young recruit stood before the newly erected gallows, the Gascon safely tucked between Athos and Porthos, their shoulders touching, offering much needed support to the young man. Aramis was close, just to Porthos' left and Treville stood to Athos' right. More musketeers stood behind the four and Treville. Nearly the entire regiment had shown up, save for those needed to watch over the garrison and to escort the royal couple to the proceedings. Usually, the king and queen would not attend such an event, but given that the condemned had directly threatened not only them, but France as well, Louis had insisted. A crowd had formed behind the rows of musketeers, large numbers for such an early morning, but most would not miss a public hanging, especially when there were five to be hanged. Within that crowd's numbers stood Jean, his eyes watching the young man he had grown so fond of and had developed a deep respect for, the young man he had risked everything for and felt proud for doing so. d'Artagnan stood straight and tall despite the pain he was in from his injuries. He would not allow Amyot to see him in any way except strong and true. He had persevered, had come out on top, and now he would see justice done. For himself, and for France and the crown.

All eyes watched as the hangman, his head covered with a hood, ascended the stairs to the gallows and checked the five nooses. A stool stood beneath each noose and the hangman made sure each was positioned perfectly along the platform. The crowd began to talk excitedly as the anticipation of the morning's entertainment grew, their voices mixing together creating a loud din that caused d'Artagnan's ever present headache to spike behind his eyes. He lifted his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed tight against the pain. Aramis, ever diligent in his care of his young friend, leaned forward and glanced around Porthos to take in the Gascon's pale features. Both Athos and Porthos were already looking at the young man, their eyes filled with concern.

"d'Artagnan, are you okay?" the medic queried as he stepped out of line to stand before their youngest.

d'Artagnan opened his eyes and looked at his friend. "Just a headache, Aramis. I am fine…really," he answered softly.

Aramis tilted his head and studied the Gascon closely. "Worse than the usual?" he asked knowingly, his words pulling confused looks over Athos' and Porthos' faces.

d'Artagnan sighed as he lowered his chin slightly. "Yes…worse than usual. It's the noise of the crowd."

"You've had these headaches before?" Athos asked, concern lacing his voice.

The Gascon sighed as he glanced at his mentor. "I'm fine, Athos. It usually is just a nuisance, but the crowd and…the anticipation I suppose…is making the pain spike," he said softly.

"Why did I not know about these headaches?" Athos queried, his eyes now seeking out the medic in their group.

Aramis shrugged then cast a quick glance at Athos before returning his attention to d'Artagnan. "It isn't life threatening…just residual pain from his torture. It will go away with time, but certain situations can cause a temporary increase of his pain," the marksman explained.

"I wished to be informed of everything regarding d'Artagnan's recovery, Aramis. You know this," Athos hissed.

d'Artagnan turned to his mentor and rested his gloved hand on the man's arm. "It is my fault he didn't tell you, Athos. I asked that he not say anything since it is nothing to worry about and you seem to be worrying about everything that has to do with me these days. I didn't want to add to that," the Gascon said, dark eyes pleading with Athos to understand.

Athos cocked his head and eyed his protégé critically. "Yes, well, I've put a lot of time into your training and I don't want that time wasted if you keel over," he said with a slight curl to his lip.

d'Artagnan grinned lightly as he turned to face the gallows again. "Your time will not be wasted, Athos. I promise," he said.

"Just see that you keep to that promise," Athos replied. "And you," he added as he once again looked at Aramis. "Do not keep anything about the pup's recovery from me."

Aramis dipped his head in reply and turned his attention back to the scene before him. Porthos, who had kept silent through the conversation merely shook his head at his friends. Treville grinned softly to himself, happy to see the banter slowly returning between his most trusted musketeers. The sound of a door opening brought all talking to a halt and all eyes turned to see the first prisoner emerge from the darkness behind the door. d'Artagnan tensed when the third man was led to the gallows. Amyot looked defiant as he was forced up the steps to the gallows and made to stand on the stool beneath the third noose. His eyes swept the rows of blue capes until they found who they were looking for. d'Artagnan sucked in a quick breath when their eyes met, but he did not falter or look away. Amyot sneeringly smiled at the Gascon, leaving the young man nearly breathless and trembling until a firm hand touched his back and anchored him, letting know that he was not alone. He glanced over at Porthos and offered him a thankful nod before he turned back to watch as the two other men were led to stand beneath their own nooses. His gaze returned to Amyot, who still watched him, and though the man's stare unnerved him, he didn't allow any outward sign of his distress. He did not look away as the charges against the men were read, his ears barely picking up what was being said. Finally, the hangman placed a hood over each man's head and the hateful glare of d'Artagnan's torturer was blocked from view. Then, d'Artagnan saw something that had him nearly sagging into his friend. Amyot was visibly shaking, the bravado from just a few moments ago gone as his death drew nearer. Now, instead of the man who had cause him so much agony and had very nearly brought about his death was facing his own and it was obvious for all to see how terrified he was. Amyot's head jerked as the noose was placed around his neck and tightened and d'Artagnan swore he could hear him sobbing from where he stood.

When the hangman was done securing each noose, he went to stand behind the first man. He waited several moments before he suddenly kicked the stool from beneath the first man's feet. The crowd roared as the man hit the end of the rope, his body dancing and jerking in its death throes. The second man's stool was kicked away, but d'Artagnan only had eyes for Amyot. When the hangman went to stand behind Amyot, d'Artagnan thought he may pass out. When the stool was kicked away and Amyot's body jerked, d'Artagnan stumbled sideways, the only thing keeping him from falling was his friends arms wrapping around him. He never took his eyes off of Amyot and once the man's body stilled he felt himself being led from the square, the din of the crowd causing the pain in his head to spike once again. Once clear of the square and the boisterous noise of the crowd, Athos instructed Porthos to sit d'Artagnan down on a nearby bench. The boy's eyes were wide, his breaths coming in quick pants as the finality of what he had just witnessed hit him. Aramis was knelt before him, asking him questions that he lacked the ability to answer. Porthos was there too, sat beside him on the bench, his strong hand gentle as it kneaded the back of his neck. Treville stood behind Aramis and Athos…Athos was on his knees beside Aramis and he was cupping d'Artagnan's cheek, his eyes filled with concern as he stared at the young man. It was this that brought d'Artagnan out of the stupor he had fallen into and he shifted his eyes to Athos and met his gaze.

"It's over?" the Gascon whispered questioningly, still not quite believing it, though he knew what he had seen.

Athos nodded, his thumb wiping away a tear that suddenly found its way down d'Artagnan's cheek. "It's over…Amyot is dead," he replied comfortingly.

d'Artagnan nodded, then hissed and squeezed his eyes shut against another spike of pain in his head. Aramis leaned closer and placed his hand on the Gascon's forehead. "He's a little too warm. Let's get him back to your apartments so he can rest. He's had much excitement today," the medic instructed.

"Is he alright?" Treville asked from behind Aramis.

"He'll be fine with some rest," Aramis replied.

Together, Athos and Porthos helped d'Artagnan to his feet and with Treville and Aramis following closely behind, they guided the young to where their horses were tethered. Athos suggested the Gascon ride with one of them, but d'Artagnan bristled at the idea. "I can surely ride my own horse," he said indignantly at the mere suggestion that he couldn't, bringing amused smiles to the faces of the other men.

Once they were all mounted on their horses, Treville looked over his men and nodded. "Take all the time you need to rest. I won't expect to see any of you at the garrison for at least three days," he said. "And take care of the pup," he added before he left them to watch his retreating form.

Athos turned to the others and tilted his head. "You heard Treville," he said as maneuvered his horse beside d'Artagnan's. Together, the four men rode slowly through the streets of Paris, the horrors of the preceding weeks finally behind them. When they finally reached Athos' apartments, they wasted no time in settling d'Artagnan in bed, a cool compress on his forehead, while the rest of them gathered at the table, a bottle of wine and three goblets before them. No words were said for a long time for no words were needed. They were here, together, three becoming four, and nothing was ever going to take away what they had fought so hard to bring together.

 **Yay, Amyot is finally gone! I'm just as relieved as the rest of you probably are! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I think it is one of my favorites. Please let me know what you think. I'm hoping the Epilogue won't take too long to get posted. It all depends on how work goes. Thanks for reading!**

 **Cindy**


	15. Chapter 15 - Jean and d'Artagnan

**So this is it! The final chapter! I just want to thank everyone who stuck with me on this, even when the waits for updates were way too long. Your support has been amazing and is what keeps me doing this. I'm not sure when my next Musketeers story will be since I feel that I have been neglecting my first love, Supernatural, but there will definitely be more Musketeers stories in my future :) This chapter contains the epilogue at the end. I hope you enjoy!**

 **Cindy**

Chapter 15 – Jean and d'Artagnan

It was early in the afternoon when d'Artagnan finally awakened. He groaned as he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the bed and looked around the room, noting with some disappointment that he was alone. His thoughts went back to that morning, his breath quickening as he remembered the moment when Amyot hit the end of the rope. Then, he remembered the sound of the man's sobs before the stool was kicked away and a different feeling washed over the Gascon, leaving him befuddled and confused, for what he was feeling was not hatred or anger toward the man who had tortured him. Instead, he felt a deep pity for a man who had felt so strongly about his cause that he had allowed it to take over his life and drive him mad in the process. The Gascon took in several deep breaths, letting each one out slowly to calm himself. He shook his head at the idea that he actually felt bad for Amyot, but that feeling was gone when suddenly there was a soft rap on the closed door. d'Artagnan glanced around the room in search of a weapon, the young man at once on edge about being alone and not knowing who was on the other side of the door. His body tensed as another knock sounded, but he immediately relaxed when a low voice called out.

"Hello? It's me, Jean…may I come in?" the voice sounded, bringing a warm smile to the young man's face.

"Coming!" d'Artagnan called. The Gascon swung his legs over the edge of the bed then slowly pushed himself to stand. He shuffled across the room, disengaged the lock and pulled the door open wide, allowing his visitor to step past him into the room.

"You're alone?" Jean asked as he looked around the room.

"Uh…yes, it looks like it. I woke only a short time ago and nobody was here," d'Artagnan answered, the young man giving the older one in front of him a thankful smile when Jean took his arm to steady him when it became obvious that the younger man was still a bit unsteady on his feet. Jean guided d'Artagnan toward the small table near the fireplace, his hand lightly pressed to the small of his back, and eased him onto one of the chairs, the elder man concerned about how weak the younger one still was.

Once d'Artagnan was settled, Jean pulled out another chair and soon both men were sitting, a cup of wine in front of each. Jean fiddled with his cup rather than drink from it and d'Artagnan tilted his head as he watched his new friend.

"What is it, Jean? What troubles you?" d'Artagnan queried softly.

Jean looked up and smiled warmly at the young man. "I…I am leaving Paris in the morning," he said.

"Why?" d'Artagnan asked with furrowed brow.

Jean sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "The city makes me nervous…so many people so close together. I'm from the country and am not used to all of this. And…well…I've been away from my family so long, but I…I…"

At Jean's hesitation, d'Artagnan reached across the table and gripped the man's wrist. "You are afraid to go home?" he asked, his eyes filled with kindness as Jean met his gaze. The man was once again filled with admiration for the younger man before him. He felt stupid for feeling so scared in front of someone who had been through so much, yet had managed to hold onto his courage and humanity.

"What if she doesn't want me?" Jean asked. "I've been away for so long, d'Artagnan. What if she believes me dead? What if she has moved on?" he continued in a rushed, shaky voice.

"Did she love you…before you left?" d'Artagnan queried.

"Yes, we were very much in love, but then I just left her behind," Jean answered with shame.

d'Artagnan smiled as he gave Jean's wrist a soft squeeze. "She will welcome you with open arms, Jean…I know she will," he said before pulling his hand away and leaning back.

"But, why would she?" Jean asked.

"Because she loves you. That doesn't just go away…especially when one doesn't know what has become of their loved one," d'Artagnan replied.

"So, you think that I should go to her? After all this time?"

"I do. I can see that Paris isn't for you, Jean. Your heart lies elsewhere, and though I will miss you, I will be happy in knowing that you are with your beloved wife once again," d'Artagnan answered.

Jean had just opened his mouth to speak when suddenly, the slightly open door burst wide open and three men rushed into the room, their weapons drawn, surprising the two men inside. Jean was on his feet in a heartbeat and in front of d'Artagnan, his own weapon held out against the sudden threat.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

Athos, Aramis and Porthos hurried along the streets between the palace and Athos' apartments, the urge to get back to their youngest strong among all three. Several hours after they had tucked d'Artagnan into bed, they had received an apologetic note from Captain Treville, informing them that the King wished to see them right away. Though the King had been disappointed that d'Artagnan hadn't been with them and had at first insisted that he be brought to the palace immediately, a hushed conversation with the Queen had managed, thankfully, to change his mind. They had stood for over an hour listening to the King go on and on about how courageous and wonderful they all were, especially the missing recruit. Cardinal Richelieu stood just behind and to the right of the King's seat, a look of barely concealed contempt on his face as the King droned on. Finally, after the King had finished with his accolades, words the three men knew would be forgotten by the royal within the week, they were released to return to their still recovering recruit, with a promise that they would bring d'Artagnan to the palace within the next few days. After a brief conversation with Treville, the three men rushed through the palace, all eager to get back before d'Artagnan woke to find them gone.

Finally, the Inseparables reached the building that housed Athos' apartments and they rushed up the stairs, only to come to a sudden halt when Porthos, who had led the way up the stairs saw the door to the room that their Gascon was in slightly ajar. He held up his finger to his lips as he turned to his two friends then turned his head so he could listen. Voices from inside the room carried out to them and all three pulled their swords free and rushed the rest of the way up the stairs before crashing through the door. The three men pulled to a stop when they saw Jean, his own sword drawn, standing protectively by the table, his body partially blocking their view of d'Artagnan, who was pulling himself to his feet, the pain of the movement obvious as he gritted his teeth.

Jean's eyes were wide as he took in the three men, then he let out a relieved breath as he let his sword arm fall to his side. "Thank God it's only you," he breathed out while stepping to the side to allow the three men a full view of their youngest.

The three musketeers lowered their weapons in unison before Aramis rushed forward and took d'Artagnan's arm. "What are you doing out of bed?" he queried as he helped the young man to sit back down on the chair.

"It is my fault, I'm afraid," Jean hurried to say. "I wished to come say goodbye, but I wasn't expecting d'Artagnan to be alone."

"You're leaving?" Athos asked as he watched Aramis look d'Artagnan over.

"Yes. It is time for me to find out if my wife will accept me back," Jean answered.

"We already discussed this, Jean. You know she will," d'Artagnan said, the young man trying in vain to push Aramis' hands away, receiving only a sharp look from the medic in return.

"Yes, we did, and I hope with all of my heart that you are right, d'Artagnan," Jean said in reply.

"So, when are ya leavin'?" Porthos asked as he removed his weapons belt and slung it over the back of one of the chairs.

"Tomorrow. It is a long journey home and I wish to make it there by weeks end," Jean replied.

Athos looked up from where he had seated himself at the table and eyed the man who had become a friend. "Perhaps Captain Treville could spare a man or two to accompany you home. The roads are not as safe as they once were," the musketeer offered.

Jean smiled gratefully, but shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I am capable of taking care of myself…but I do appreciate the offer," he said.

Athos nodded, but a quick glance at d'Artagnan revealed much concern in the young man's dark eyes. "If you won't accept an escort, at least make sure to find an inn each night to rest in," Athos requested.

"I do not have the money for such extravagances, I'm afraid," Jean replied.

Athos glanced at Porthos and gave him a quick nod before he reached for the bottle of wine. He poured himself a cup as Porthos left the room, only to return several minutes later with a small, leather pouch. He handed the pouch to Athos who then stood and moved in front of their new friend.

"Take this…it is more than enough to pay for an inn each night. The rest you can use as you see fit," Athos said as he handed the pouch to the surprised man.

"I cannot accept this, Athos. It is too much," Jean said as he peered into the pouch and became immediately aware that there was more coin than he usually earned in a year.

"Please, Jean, I will sleep much easier knowing that you sleep where you are protected," d'Artagnan said, his dark eyes beseeching the man to comply.

"Besides, we owe you," Porthos said as he clapped the man on the back. When Jean glanced over at him, his face a mask of confusion, Porthos continued. "For keeping our pup relatively safe until we could get to him."

Jean shook his head and held the pouch out to Athos. "I do not expect payment for that. I did what I did because it was the right thing to do," he said.

Athos pushed the man's hand back and smiled slightly. "And we give you this because it, too, is the right thing to do. We can never fully repay you for what you have returned to us…please accept this small token of our eternal gratefulness," he said.

When Jean still looked hesitant, Aramis turned and smiled charmingly at him. "You will not get out of this room without that pouch so you might as well just put it in your pocket," he said.

Jean glanced at each man, his gaze finally stopping on d'Artagnan, whose own eyes were so pleading that the man could not refuse the gift. When he shoved the pouch into his pocket, he heard Porthos' boisterous laugh behind him.

"'e gotcha with those puppy eyes, didn't 'e?" Porthos asked as soon as his laughter died away.

When Jean looked questioningly at Porthos, it was Aramis who stepped forward and offered an explanation. "He has a gift, our young Gascon. We saw glimpses of it during his training, but we didn't get the full arsenal until he was recovering back at the manor. It's hard to keep the pup in bed when he looks at you like that."

Jean furrowed his brow then looked once again at d'Artagnan. He smiled fondly when he saw the indignation on the young man's face. "Ah, pay them no ill will, d'Artagnan, for maybe you don't know the power behind your gift," he said with a grin.

"You too!?" d'Artagnan cried as he shook his head. The men around him, however, did not miss the slight curl of his lips as he turned his head away. There were smiles to go around and for several moments no words were said. Then, suddenly, a loud grumble was heard and d'Artagnan looked up at his friends, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Athos smiled fondly as he stepped toward the young man.

"I do believe d'Artagnan's stomach is trying to tell us something," Athos said as he turned to his companions. "Porthos, Jean…would you be so kind as to run and fetch us some food and more wine from the kitchen?" he asked.

"On it," Porthos said as he grabbed Jean's arm and led him from the room.

When the two men returned several minutes later, they spread the food on the table, poured the wine and the five men sat down to eat, each of the four older men watching as inconspicuously as they could to make sure that the youngest in the room ate everything on his plate. It took a bit of time, but finally d'Artagnan had finished all that he had been given. He smiled at the four men, one brow lifted as if to let them know that he knew they had been watching him, then suddenly his mouth widened into a deep yawn. Aramis patted the Gascon's arm as he stood from his chair.

"I guess that is a sign that someone needs to get some more rest," the medic said.

"I'm not tired, Aramis," d'Artagnan protested.

"Nonsense…we can all see that you are still in need of more sleep," Athos said. "We promise that this time, when you awaken, we will be here."

d'Artagnan eyed his friends, then let his gaze linger on Jean. "And you. Will you still be here? You won't leave without saying goodbye?" he asked.

Jean smiled as he set his cup of wine on the table. "I will stay if you wish. I am not leaving until the morning anyway and I have all that I own with me. I would never leave without saying goodbye to you, d'Artagnan," he answered.

"Good! Then it's settled. The pup will go back to bed and Jean will be our guest for another night," Aramis quipped as he reached down and gripped the Gascon's arm, helping the young man to his feet.

Once tucked away into bed, it took only a few moments before d'Artagnan was fast asleep. The others returned to the table and talked quietly amongst themselves until the light of afternoon slowly faded to the dark of night. Finally, when none of the men could keep their eyes open another moment, they all found spots to bed down for the night. Athos dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down with a sigh. He took off his boots and lifted his feet to rest on the edge of the bed, then lowered his hat over his eyes and slowly drifted off to sleep, comfortable in the knowledge that they were all together and they were all safe.

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

The following morning, after a quick breakfast, it was time for Jean to make his journey home. He shook the hand of each of the Inseparables, but when he tried to pull his hand away from Porthos, the large man pulled him into his arms and hugged him close. "Thank you," Porthos whispered into his ear. When Jean pulled away and met the large man's eyes, he could see the gratitude there. He looked at Athos and Aramis and saw the same reflected in their eyes. Finally, he turned to d'Artagnan and smiled. He stepped forward and pulled the young man close. He patted his back then pulled away. "I will always remember the day I met this strong and courageous man. I will forever be in your debt for inspiring in me the strength I needed to stand against Amyot. Thank you, d'Artagnan…I will never, ever forget you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

d'Artagnan, his eyes bright with unshed tears, took Jean's hand in his. "Thank you for risking everything to protect me. It is I who is inspired by your courage and kindness, Jean. Please be safe on your journey home and know that I will never forget you either," he said softly.

The two men hugged again and then Jean was gone. d'Artagnan watched the door for several moments then turned to his friends. Aramis smiled as he threw his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Do not fret, pup…you will see Jean again…I'm sure of it," he said.

d'Artagnan looked over at his friend and smiled. "I hope you are right, Aramis," he said before pulling away and moving to sit back at the table. "So," the Gascon then said. "I never did ask…where did you all go yesterday?"

"We were summoned to the palace. King Louis wished a meeting with us. A long meeting," Athos answered with a roll of his eyes.

"Ah…lucky you," d'Artagnan quipped with a wide grin.

"Oh, fear not, pup," Porthos said. "The King 'as requested a meeting with you once yer strength is back."

The three Inseparables could not stop their laughter at the look that suddenly graced their youngest's face. Soon, the three voices raised in laughter were joined by one more and it was a long time later when silence once again gained hold of the room.

 **Epilogue – One Month Later**

d'Artagnan swiped his arm over his face, the sweat of his brow soaking his sleeve. His body ached and he was exhausted, but a smile graced his young face never the less. He was back to training, gaining strength every day, his skills almost back to what they had been before his abduction and torture and he couldn't be happier. He had begun light training one week after Jean had left Paris and four days after his meeting with King Louis, a meeting that had become a torture in and of itself. When he had finally been released from his King's presence, his three friends had taken him out for much deserved dinner and drink at their favorite pub. It was his first venture away from Athos' apartment and it felt amazing to finally be able to live again outside of those four walls.

Each week d'Artagnan's training had intensified and this week had been Porthos' turn to get him back into fighting shape. While the bigger man had taken it easy on him at first, by the end of the week it was apparent that the kid gloves had come off and it was up to d'Artagnan to fight or fail. He had been pulled away throughout each day by either Athos or Aramis to practice his swordplay and shooting, and he was sure it was because they feared he may get hurt again, so fierce was his determination to regain all that his time away from training had taken from him. Porthos allowed the interruptions though as he was fully aware that d'Artagnan would work himself to the bone if allowed, and as much as he wanted the young man back in fighting shape, he had no desire to see him injured.

It was here, at the end of a full week of hand to hand training that d'Artagnan found himself at the water barrel, wiping the sweat from his brow and grinning ear to ear. After drinking his fill of water he turned and looked around for his friends, a slight frown forming when he could not see them anywhere. He turned in a circle, his eyes searching for the three men, his heart sinking when it became obvious that they were not in the garrison. He knew they weren't in Treville's office since the captain had left not long ago for the palace. Over the past month, they had all been too tired at the end of the day to go out to the pub, the four preferring to sit and drink wine at their favorite table in the garrison. They would converse for a few hours, drink wine and eat the food that Serge brought for them, then they would make their way to their beds, either at the garrison or in Athos' case, his apartments and Constance's for d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan's eyes fell on their table and he sighed when he found it empty, though he knew it would be since that was the first place he had looked.

d'Artagnan let out another sigh as he made his way to the entrance of the garrison. He knew there was probably a good explanation for his friends leaving without saying goodbye, but he still couldn't hide the sudden hurt he felt at their absence. He stepped through the garrison gates and headed in the direction of the Bonacieux home, his head down, eyes on the ground ahead of him. He startled when suddenly a hand landed on his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks. His sword was already in his hand as he pulled away and spun to meet the one who had grabbed him, the young man stumbling back a step when he realized who it was.

"Athos…I…"

Athos cocked his head and eyed his protégé curiously. "We've been waiting for you. We think you deserve a night out, but if you are tired and wish to take rest, we understand," the swordsman drawled.

"No…I'm not tired. Not at all," d'Artagnan stammered. He looked past his mentor and saw Aramis and Porthos leaning against the outside wall of the garrison, bright smiles on both of their faces.

"Very good then…shall we go?" Athos replied before he turned and strolled back to the other two musketeers.

d'Artagnan stood in his spot, his feet not quite getting the message that they should be moving when Porthos' voice called out to him. "Hey, whelp…you comin' or what?" A wide grin spread across the Gascon's face and he rushed to meet up with his friends. They walked in silent comradery until d'Artagnan could stand the silence no longer.

"I…uh…I just want to thank you all, for everything you are doing for me. I…"

"Hey, one does not thank their brothers for doing what brothers are supposed to do," Aramis said as he reached a hand up to ruffle the Gascon's hair, both Athos and Porthos nodding their agreement.

And there it was. d'Artagnan's heart filled and his smile widened at the thought. He was no longer just a recruit to these men, nor just a protégé…he was their brother, and that was more than he could ever hope to be.

 **THE END**

 **That's all she wrote! I hope the ending didn't disappoint. Please let me know what you think and once again...thank you all so much for reading, following, favoriting (pretty sure that isn't a word), and reviewing. You are amazing! Take care :)**

 **Cindy**


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